


Colors

by asaprockme



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Awkward Harry, Blind!Niall, Disability, Dysfunctional Relationships, M/M, Protective Harry, Strangers to Lovers, he's really caring
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-28
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-03 20:47:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 84,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5306237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asaprockme/pseuds/asaprockme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was an explosion of colors, a vibrant firecracker against the night sky, but before that he was only a blind eye willing and waiting, itching to see the world.</p><p>Or, in which Niall is blind and Harry would do anything he possibly could to help show him the world. One step at a time they'll take it, with Harry holding Niall's hand the whole way through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

He wasn't a child―he didn't need anyone to watch his every move, didn't need anyone asking if he needed their help or if he would be okay managing on his own. He was his own person; he was strong and independent and smart. He could do things on his own―normal things that normal people were typically capable of―and he'd been able to for a while now. He wasn't a charity case and he definitely didn't need anyone's pity.

Despite the fact that he could no longer see, he knew how people looked at him, could feel it in the air around him. Sometimes when he couldn't do something right or if he happened to need assistance even though he'd insist with all his being that he didn't, he knew how others would look at him and he hated it. He hated feeling small and worthless, like he should be treated less of or babied around simply because of a disability he had absolutely no say in whatsoever. It wasn't fair on his part, and it wasn't right.

But no matter how much he'd protest and try to do things for himself, someone would always swoop in like some kind of hero he never asked for. This wasn't a comic book; he didn't need a superhero to save him from the world. He was perfectly capable of controlling his own life―he wished others could realize that.

He'd been quite used to his unfortunate disability for some time now, but it bothered him right down to the core how people didn't seem to understand that. He couldn't walk down the street without feeling like the entire universe was watching him. He couldn't even tie his shoes with people wondering how he could possibly accomplish that if his eyes didn't work properly. And it's not that they were purposely meaning to be ignorant or sound rude (at least he hoped not, he hoped no one was that cruel), but that was how everything came across, and Niall would be lying if he said it didn't bother him at all.

And while there were some good people out there who obviously didn't have bad intentions, were good hearted and pure, and while there were some people who were just downright insensitive and didn't give a care in the world, there was one person who happened to genuinely understand Niall―he'd never met anyone like that before.

He didn't treat him like he was a charity case ready to be donated to, didn't treat him like he was special or of a higher priority, didn't feel the need to care for him and watch over him like he was some kind of child who couldn't survive on their own. He didn't push and he didn't intrude; he didn't ask stupid questions and he was the most realistic, most rational person Niall had ever met in his entire life.

His name was Harry, and soon enough Niall would realize that he was the one thing he needed to feel alive again. And while Niall was an empty room full of black and darkness and  _nothing_ , Harry was that bright light at the end of the tunnel here to guide him home. He was Harry and he was the one thing Niall never knew he needed until he had him wrapped around his little finger and settling into the cusps of his hands.

Niall was pitch black, a silent, still noise, but Harry was a bursting, volcanic eruption of colors―bright and loud, pretty and electric, painting the skies and turning Niall's world into a beautiful work of art; a wonderful masterpiece.

 


	2. One

**Niall**

There's something about the cold that Niall finds peace in. The crisp, sharp wind nips at skin eagerly, and he isn't sure why but he enjoys the feeling. He's so used to the cooler weather that it's almost as if he's immune to the way the air whips around him harshly, so used to it that he doesn't even shudder anymore. He likes the way his nose feels numb, the way his ears burn a bright red, the way it makes him feel free. He can't explain why he finds pleasure in being cold, but one thing he is sure of is how it makes him feel alive.

Niall likes to feel. He likes to touch, likes to let his fingers roam across different surfaces so he can become familiar with them. He kind of has to, really. Missing one of his senses makes the others stronger in a way. Because he can't see, he likes to touch. He likes to listen, likes to smell, likes to taste, and although he wonders what the world around him looks like—is beauty as great as people make it out to be? Do colors make a big difference? What do the trees that rustle in the wind, their leaves that crinkle underneath the slightest touch, look like?—he's used to not knowing. He doesn't enjoy being left out from the one thing everyone else has, but he's okay. He's been okay his entire life; he makes do.

Sometimes people treat him like he's fragile, like he'll crumble into a million and one tiny pieces with just one touch. They treat him with extra care, watch over him a little more than the average human being, tell him that he's special but Niall knows he isn't. He isn't special and he isn't a charity case. He's blind and he's just like everyone else—that's just the way things are. He walks, talks, puts on his shoes everyday, dresses himself one leg at a time. He eats, breaths, takes showers, he lays down in bed at night and dreams like everyone else in the world does. So why is he special? What makes him so great of all people?

He doesn't like being treated this way, but he doesn't know what else to do. He doesn't deserve pity, doesn't need to be babied because he's not a child. In fact, he's almost eighteen, he just wishes people would treat him like he is.

Niall keeps to himself most of the time. There aren't many people out there who are willing to befriend a blind kid unless they have to, unless it's out of sympathy. He doesn't mind, though. That's one less person he has to try to trust so it's okay. Being blind and trusting others that surround you isn't easy. It seems impossible sometimes so Niall doesn't bother. He likes to be alone, anyway. Just him and his thoughts and the serenity and calmness that he needs, that he enjoys. Sometimes he feels lonely, sometimes he wishes he had someone else by his side, but sometimes—most of the time—he's content just the way things are. It's been this way his whole life, he doesn't think it needs to change.

He does have one friend, but he's not sure if he could actually call her that. Her name is June, but they don't talk to each other unless they're at school. June is a personal, student assistant. She helps Niall get around school, guides him with whatever he needs to, but once the last school bell of the day rings it's like the two don't know each other; they're strangers in the outside world.

Sometimes Niall can feel June's pity radiating off her skin like heat waves in the summer air. He doesn't like the way it makes him feel—uncomfortable and awkward and just useless. He wishes he didn't need her by his side, which truthfully he doesn't since he memorizes pretty much everything his life comes with by now, but it's not his choice to say. The school insists on him having an assistant, and his parents would never rest easy at night if they knew he even so wanted to be on his own. It isn't fair; he should have a say in his own life, but that's the thing—he doesn't. There's too many people out there who want to pity him instead of let him live his own life.

Oh, the perks of being blind.

In one hand, his fingers are clutched around the white cane he uses to help guide his way around, and his other hand is held tightly in June's palm. That's another thing he wishes he didn't have to do, hold June's hand. It's not that he has to, but she's let him know ample amount of times how it makes her comfortable knowing that he'll always be by her side. But of course he will, he's not got much elsewhere to go.

Sometimes June's hands are clammy and warm and it makes him uneasy, makes him want to squirm every time she touches him, but she swears he's just being difficult. Niall never protests, though, because there's really no point in doing so. So he obeys, puts in his code for his locker that he's had memorized for so long before he pulls out whatever books he needs for the day and he's done. June grabs his hand again, even though she doesn't have to necessarily, and they continue their way to where Niall's first class is located.

Being a person with a disability, he has to take special classes that mold to his needs. They're smaller classes, ones that he shares with people that have other disabilities. He gets to leave class ten minutes earlier than he needs to so that he can make it through the hallways before the overcrowding takes place. Which is the one thing that Niall will admit scares him the most sometimes. Because he can get quite claustrophobic in crowded, packed areas, and if it gets bad enough he starts to panic and that's just something he doesn't need to go through. He wishes he could be treated like a normal human being. Wishes people wouldn't just see him as that one blind kid, but as Niall Horan, a student who  _happens_  to be blind, but that's okay—his blindness doesn't define him. But apparently it does. Apparently it always has ever since he can remember.

Niall assumes that him and June are close to his classroom seeing as their pace begins to slow down. The very second June lets go of his hand and sends him on his way, he feels a sharp pain coming from his side, a hard body colliding harshly into his, spinning him slightly before he falls to the ground with a loud thump. The glasses that are perched on the bridge of his nose fall off, clanking to the cool, tiled floors. He loses his grip on his cane that he can hear rolling away from him, and his eyes squeeze shut as he lets out a small, quiet whine of discomfort.

He hears June gasping in surprise next to him, and he feels a slight burn in his side from his fall, but he thinks he'll be okay for the most part. June on the other hand is having a huge fit, like she was the one who'd gotten the wind knocked out of her instead of him. He's just about to tell her to calm down, that's he's fine and there's no need to worry, when her voice stops him from doing so.

"Harry, how many times do I have to tell you to be careful in the hallways?!" She shouts, voice high, laced with annoyance from what Niall can tell. He's not concerned about that, though. He's more interested in who this Harry is she speaks about. He's never heard of him before.

"S-sorry, June!" A deep voice quickly apologizes. It's frantic and worried, raspy and one toned in a way, but Niall finds that he quite liked the sound. He's not exactly sure why yet. "I'm just―ah  _fuck_."

"Are you okay, Niall?" June asks him as she reaches out to help him upright again. Seconds later his glasses are handed back to him and his cane is being placed into his hand once again, but he stills from the cool touch of another hand that isn't familiar to him at all. He knows it's not June's, her hands feel like anxiety and bad decisions Niall doesn't want to know if she's made or not.

These hands aren't clammy or warm―they're nice and smooth like velvet, soft and delicate like nothing Niall's ever felt before. The feeling reels him in. He likes to touch.

"Man, I'm so sorry, I didn't―" Harry apologizes like if he doesn't he'll be shamed for it. Of course he would, especially given the circumstances.

"S'okay," Niall mumbles lowly, not sure if he can actually be heard as he lets June pull him off of the dirty floors. He dusts off his jeans even though he knows it wouldn't matter if he hadn't. His backpack is hanging off of his shoulders now, and he feels those cool hands helping him put it on again. He shivers, but he just hopes no one notices. "Think I've got much bigger problems to worry about than falling to the ground."

He doesn't like to be pitied, doesn't like when people feel the need to be sorry for him, but sometimes he can't help bringing it up. It's like it's bound to happen; it's inevitable, really. It's better, Niall feels, being able to pity yourself rather than let others do it for you.

"I didn't―I wasn't―" Harry starts just as June warns him like a kid who desperately needs to be chastised for doing something they're not supposed to. He suppresses a sigh.

"It's okay," Niall insists once again because it is and it will be for the most part. Would it really matter if it wasn't anyway?

"I really didn't mean to, I—"

"It's okay, Harry," June speaks up, sounding even more bothered than she had been before. Niall doesn't understand why, she's not the one with the problem here. "Just get to class," she adds. "And stop running in the hallways this early in the morning,  _please_."

"Yeah, of course. Sorry." If Niall could see right now, he likes to think that Harry would be eagerly nodding his head like he's trying to get his point across. It's then that Niall wonders what exactly the boy who collided into him looks like; what color are his eyes, how tall he is, what kind of clothes is he wearing today? But then Niall stops before he gets too ahead of himself, before he makes himself sad when he remembers that he'll never get to know those answers. It is kind of depressing to think about.

"I'm really sorry," that deep voice calls out once more, and Niall assumes his words are meant for just him this time around. But he doesn't say anything back, though. How many times will he have to insist that everything is fine before the guy believes him? He's not in the mood to figure it out.

So he just nods, pulling his backpack higher up before he reaches out for June's hand so that she can help him into his classroom. He can feel Harry's eyes watching his every move, can sense the emotions that fill the area around him, but he blocks everything out, chooses to ignore it and go about his day like always. And once again he's left alone with just him and his thoughts and nothing else.

The warning bell signaling that class is about to begin rings and suddenly Niall wishes it were the very last so that he could be on his way home and in his room by himself where he feels like he belongs.

  
  



	3. Two

**Harry**

In the school's courtyard, there Niall sits alone. His hands are folded tightly in his lap, fingers interlocked, elbows resting on top of the wooden table he leans on. It's a bit chilly outside, the leaves that are in the midst of changing colors rustle from where they're attached to their own branches, and Niall shivers a bit once the breeze passes by, but overall he doesn't seem to mind the temperature. It's almost as if he's immune to the feeling.

Harry wonders why he sits alone, wonders if he ever has anyone to keep him company from time to time, and if he doesn't, why not? He also can't help but wonder where June is, and if she ever spends time with the blond outside of her student assistant priorities. Deep down, Harry hopes Niall doesn't have to be by himself all the time. And if Niall ever needed someone to to be by his side, Harry doesn't think he'd mind taking him up on that offer. He wouldn't mind.

Without any further thought, Harry makes his way past his group of friends that he usually sits with during lunch, deciding that maybe Niall deserves his company much more than they do at the moment. He's sure his friends wouldn't exactly mind. With his backpack slung across his shoulders and his brown paper bag filled with his lunch clutched in one hand, he uses his free hand to push the double doors that lead to the courtyard open, taking a deep breath as he leads his own way to where the blond boy sits.

It's Wednesday afternoon, and ever since that Monday Harry couldn't seem to get Niall off of his mind. A feeling of complete guilt lingers in the pit of his stomach like a bug that just won't go away no matter how much medicine his body consumes. It swirls inside of him, settles down deep in his bones, making a home for itself where it plans to stay for as long as it can, it seems.

His bottom lip is captured in between rows of straight teeth, nibbling and gnawing at the skin until it feels as though the fleshy surface will peel away at any given moment now. It's not a particularly nice feeling to have—the guilt, the excessive worry that he can't swipe away. It happens a lot, he tends to think a lot about any and everything that happens to comes to mind. And when he starts thinking he doesn't stop. He thinks and thinks and thinks until his brain is tired and he can take it no longer.

That's the thing, though. His mind races too much that it shouldn't even be considered a healthy thing at all. He worries too much about his surroundings, more than he should actually. Because he worries about what people will think of him, what he thinks of others, what impressions he's made on them, and so on and so forth. And that's why the image of the blond headed, blind boy he'd accidentally ran into two days prior is still fresh on his mind to this day; he doesn't think he'll ever leave.

Harry feels awfully bad for the incident that went down a couple of days ago. Surely he hadn't meant to collide into Niall and make the boy fall over, hadn't meant to be running in the hallways that early in the day, hadn't meant to be scolded like a five year old trying to sneak his greedy little hand into the cookie jar behind his mother's back by June Addison, but it happened, and he's terribly, truthfully, enormously sorry about it.

Before Harry can feel too sorry for himself, he takes the seat right across from Niall, setting his sack of lunch down on the table top as well as his backpack once he slips it off from where it's been perched across his shoulders. Niall jumps a little in his seat, body tensing up slightly. Again, Harry starts to feel sorry, and before he can stop himself, a string of apologies fall from his mouth, and he tends to do that a lot—say sorry more than he actually needs to to begin with. It's a habit he hasn't really been able to separate himself from at all.

"Sorry, sorry," he manages around a hiss. His cheeks tint a vibrant pink, and is it bad if he says he's grateful that Niall isn't able to see the blush that's crept it's way onto his face without his permission? It definitely is—he doesn't mean it. "Sorry, I didn't—"

"Who is it?" Niall frowns; Harry can't help but wonder what his eyes look like behind those glasses he always wears. Are his eyes as beautiful as Harry pictures them, or do they happen to be better than Harry could ever expect? He supposes he's not sure if he'll ever figure that out.

"Harry," he blurts out, "Harry, I-I was the one that bumped into you yesterday before class, and I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, I just—"

"It's fine," Niall shrugs, but his facial expression reads otherwise. "I'm still alive, aren't I?"

"Oh. Yeah." Harry chuckles awkwardly, not knowing what to say. He hadn't thought this far before he decided to walk out here. It's far too cold, Harry finds, anyway, but he doesn't make any means to leave. He finds that he doesn't exactly want to leave Niall's presence.

A certain quietness floats around the two of them like an annoying rain cloud in the sky that won't go away. Harry finds himself squirming in his seat, because it's awkward at best, but Harry tries not to think about that part. If he does, it'll only make things more awkward than he already feels like it is; he's known to be awkward sometimes. Everyone knows it.

Minutes pass before Niall does anything else, and Harry finds himself leaning in closer when the boy across from him parts his lips and takes in a small breath of air. Niall faces in another direction than where Harry is sitting, his gaze from what Harry can tell focused beyond him, like he's lost in his own daydreams. Harry wonders what it feels like to be blind, wonders what life would be like if he were in Niall's place. He has a hard time picturing it. "Why are you talking to me?" Niall asks him. His voice is soft and smooth, but it's shy and timid like he's afraid to open up. Harry doesn't blame him.

Harry scratches at the exposed skin that peaks through the holes in his dingy jeans and shrugs. He then remembers that Niall can't see his body language and feels bad again for forgetting something so obvious. He thinks he should learn how to act around Niall from here on out if he plans to continue to talk to him. Which he does—he'd like to be his friend. If Niall would like him to, that is.

"Um, I don't know," Harry answers truthfully. Because he doesn't know, isn't sure what made him come out here and start up a conversation with a boy he'd never even seen but heard a lot about before until that prior Monday. "I just saw you sitting alone. You looked like you needed some company." Harry hopes Niall doesn't find Harry's words offensive in any way. "Plus, I wanted to tell you sorry. For, uh, for bumping into you. So, sorry... again."

"You do that a lot, huh?" Niall grins a little. It's not much of a smile, but it brings happiness to Harry's heart either way. He's not sure why yet.

"What?" Harry frowns self consciously.

"Apologize," Niall states. His smile is gone again, and Harry's not sure if it'd be weird if he told him he should do it more often. It probably would be so he keeps the suggestion to himself. Saves it for another time.

"Oh, yeah, sorry," Harry slips up again. He really does say it a lot. He can't help it. "I'll stop now," he chuckles to himself.

Hearing Niall chuckle brings a funny feeling to Harry's stomach that he doesn't understand, doesn't know why he's feeling the way he is right now in Niall's presence, and it's weird, it's weird for him to have these emotions he can't explain, but he doesn't want to dwell on it. Because if he does, he'll never stop and it'll end up eating him alive until he figures out why.

Adjusting the dark glasses that cover his eyes, Niall shifts where he sits, placing his hands on top of the table a twiddles his fingers together before he speaks up again. Harry figures that it's a nervous tactic of his. "You didn't have to sit with me, you know?" He sort of mumbles, and the tone of his voice makes Harry's mood fall slightly. He doesn't want to feel bad for Niall, doesn't want to pity him for his disabilities because he's sure people do that a lot. He wouldn't want anyone to do the same to him, but he can't shake the way he feels. There's just something inside of him telling him that he wants Niall to be okay. He hopes he is.

"I know," Harry agrees. Niall's right, he doesn't have to ditch his friends for a day, doesn't have to take time out of his lunch to comfort a lonely blind kid, but he wants to. And if Niall wants him to stop, he will. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Honestly," Niall stops the movement of his fingers. He picks his head up a bit and it's almost as if he's looking right at Harry, like he's looking him right in the eyes. Harry starts to wonder what it feels like again. "I don't know. I don't talk to many people, obviously. I don't really know what company feels like."

There it is again, that feeling of sorrow swimming around in the pit of Harry's stomach like a tankful of hungry sharks. He hopes this feeling won't be here to stay, hopes he won't always feel this way around Niall.

"I'm sorry," Harry says again, despite Niall's words not that long ago. "I know I say that too much, but I am."

"You don't have to be. I'm sure everyone is."

"I didn't—I wasn't—"

"I know," Niall sighs. "Sorry. Sometimes I don't have a filter."

Harry laughs brightly, and the mood is lifted immensely just from such a simple sound. "S'okay," his smile grows. "It happens."

"Thanks for sitting with me," Niall tells Harry gratefully, making Harry's heart swell up with pride. "Even though you don't have to."

And yeah, Harry doesn't have to necessarily, but he doesn't mind. He thinks he'd like to sit with Niall more often from now on. In fact, he probably just might.

 


	4. Three

**Niall**

Although he can't see what all surrounds him, Niall likes to make his room as personal as it can possibly get for him. He likes to smell—his favorite scent is anything vanilla or coconut—so there sits a dimly lit candle on his dresser right next to his bed. It smells like heaven, his irk little piece of paradise, smells fresh and vibrant, like what life would smell like if it were a tangible thing, something he could grasp with his own hands. It'd taken a lot for him to convince his mum to actually let him have one, one that was lit at that, but eventually Niall had gotten through to her.

That's the thing, the thing that grinds his gears the most about his parents. Yes, he's blind and he's fully aware of it, he knows, but he doesn't think there's any reason for his mum and dad to treat him exactly like that. Because even though he can no longer see, his disability isn't who he is. It is a part of him, of course, but his life doesn't revolve around the fact that he has no sight. His being handicapped doesn't define him, he isn't the poster child for all things blind.

His parents tend to baby him a lot—'Niall, do you want this?' 'Niall, would you like help with that?' 'Here, let me do that for you.'—and it's tiring. They worry about him too much; his mum never hesitates to let him know how nervous he makes her sometimes when he does something on his own. Sometimes he feels like he's suffocating; feels like he's being held down, unable to move or speak or breathe under the weight of his family and the world and June and his blindness and being lonely, and sometimes everything feels like it's crashing down. Feels like it's falling like a ton of red bricks, knocking him down and pummeling him into the ground. It's overwhelming, scary sometimes, knowing that he has all this to carry on one back, but it's okay. It's okay because he's used to it. It's okay because nobody else realizes it enough to notice, no one ever notices it enough to care.

And maybe that's why he keeps to himself. Locks himself away in his room most of the time with his candles and his posters (which are pretty much pointless but he likes the fact that they're there, that he's around them) and his music and his audiobooks that he often finds himself getting lost in.

He likes to get away from reality, so he does so by reading—it's his favorite thing to do next to anything associated with music. It's a close call, though. Except, he hates braille, would rather not have to run his fingers across a page just for something to register in his mind. He likes the soothing, soft voice of the lady who reads to him at night, likes the way it makes him feel like he's no longer in his own world, but rather living in someone else's, headphones plugged in while he drowns out the rest of his surroundings.

It's nice not having to worry about the outside world around him, but it's also sad. It's sad and it's lonely because it feels like this is the only thing he has, the only thing left to hold on tight to. Sometimes he wonders if it'd just be a good idea to let go. Or maybe he's just not ready to understand. Maybe.

***

It's kind of sad now that Niall thinks about it. He gets to school early, about forty-five or so minutes before classes actually begin, meets June at the front of the building, and from there she leads him into the library or the courtyard or the cafeteria—whichever he feels like that day. And it's sad because it's almost as if June is his babysitter, and once his parents leave, she sneaks off for the time being only to come back when necessary so it looks like she's been doing her job. She guides him, but that's about it. Other than that, the two are complete strangers.

Niall doesn't mind the fact that he doesn't have a friendship with June, is okay with the thought of them being acquaintances and acquaintances only. It's just, he wishes he didn't need her by his side. Which, he doesn't. He's perfectly capable of thriving on his own like he usually does. But having her there when she's meant to be helping him but does the complete opposite is not only unfair, but it's rude, and it's inconsiderate, and Niall hates it.

But he doesn't speak up about it, doesn't tell anyone about the complaints he's had tucked away at the back of his mind for quite some time now. Because nobody listens to the blind kid—nobody thinks what he has to say is worth it. He's worth it, though. Worth ever single thing on the entire planet, and he knows it. He feels down most of the time, often feels unworthy almost, but he's aware of who he is and what he wants to be, and if people around him don't want to take the time to realize that, to dig a little deeper, then that's no one else's loss but their own.

He could be something. He could be the greatest kid in the entire world.

Sitting alone like he regularly finds himself doing, it's not often that someone else comes along to keep him company. But ever since Harry quite literally came crashing into Niall's life, it's something that could possibly, maybe, be on the verge of changing.

Niall doesn't realize that someone's taken the seat adjacent from him until he's jumping in his seat from the sound of their voice, clutching onto his cane maybe a bit too tightly just in case he needed to be on high alert. Not that he'd need to go into defense mode at all, especially not at school, but it's a definite possibility that Niall's not willing to risk just yet.

"Oh, sorry, sorry," the person next to him rushes out, and it's honestly pathetic how Niall already remembers the sound as if he's heard it his entire life.

"Harry?" He frowns, attempting to turn in his general direction. He would never be sure if he's ever facing Harry's way exactly, but that doesn't seem to matter much.

There's a short huff of air before Harry speaks again, and Niall pictures Harry with a slight smile on his face. He wonders what Harry looks like, wonders if it would make a difference. "Yeah, it's me," Harry answers. The sound of his voice puts Niall in a lighter mood, brings his spirits up a bit because he sounds happy, sounds joyous, sounds like how the sun feels when it shines down on Niall's skin, sounds like playful bubbles floating throughout the sky, like warmth and all things good. It's nice, refreshing in a way Niall can't explain.

"What are you doing?" Harry asks without giving Niall a chance to speak. It's okay, though. It hasn't been but only a few days, not long at all, but Niall already thinks he's like to listen to Harry talk all day if he could.

The question makes Niall's shoulders fall, puts him back in the mood he was once in before Harry came along. He's doing what he's always doing: being alone, being away from the world around him. "I'm reading," is what he chooses to say. It's less complicated this way.

"But you don't have a book?" It comes out like a question, and it makes Niall snort, makes his stomach twirl 'cause no one's made him laugh in a long time. Not a real person, though, aside from the books he liked to listen to.

"I listen to them on my phone," Niall tells Harry, pulling out the device from his pocket to show the curious boy. "I don't like reading actual books because I hate reading in braille—it's frustrating."

Harry hums, then, taking in the words Niall tells him and letting them soak in. There's a comfortable silence that nestles between the two, a silence that doesn't make Niall nervous like it usually would, doesn't make him feel anxious or awkward like it should. Niall can't decide if it's because he's with Harry or if something inside of him told him not to worry today, he doesn't know. It's too soon to try and make anything seem set in stone. But it is weird, Niall finds, how easy things fall between him and Harry, how effortless the atmosphere can be. It's something he's not used to yet, but can definitely see himself becoming quick.

"What are you reading?" Harry questions after a while. "Or listening to, I should say."

It's a stupid joke that probably wouldn't have been funny if anyone else heard it, but it makes Niall let out a short, breathy laugh. It's not even funny if he's being honest, and he isn't sure if he was meant to laugh but it doesn't matter because he laughed anyway. "An autobiography," he states, "about The Beatles. They're talking about John Lennon's death."

"Dark," Harry mentions. Niall can feel his words on his skin and it makes him wonder just how close the two are actually sitting, but he doesn't dare ask. He doesn't really mind at all. "May I ask you a question? I hope I don't offend you, I'm just curious. Do you mind?"

It's not often that people ask before they offend Niall, whether that be intentionally or completely accidental, they tend to go right for the kill. And maybe that's another thing that pulls Niall in closer, that sets Harry apart from everyone else. He's already starting to do things most people would never even bother to think about with Niall. He barely even knows him, doesn't even know his last name.

"Okay," Niall nods because it is. Harry is polite, is making sure that Niall is comfortable before he says anything, and that alone is something that deserves to be praised. He could be great friends with Harry, he can already tell. "I don't mind."

"Why do you have a phone if you can't see?" Harry's voice is timid and small, like he's afraid that Niall will break at any moment, but there's no need for Harry to worry at all—Niall's fine. He understands, too. He understands why Harry would feel the need to ask, and it's alright. No harm has been done. "Again, I'm sorry if I've offended you in anyway, that wasn't my intention at all, I just—"

"It's fine, Harry," Niall chuckles, reaching out a hand to place on Harry. He's not sure where it lands, not sure if he's touching his arm or if his hand is on Harry's knee, but he soon pulls it away once he realizes how weird that might've been for him. His face breaks out into a harsh blush, so he ducks his head to hide it away from the boy sitting next to him. "You'd be surprised how many things a blind person can actually do."

It's kind of weird, acknowledging his own disability. He knows his condition and he's well aware that everyone who comes in contact with him does too, but it's different announcing it out loud, letting it out into the open. It's—it's odd. It's an odd thing to think about.

Their conversation is cut short when Niall feels a hand curling around shoulder from behind. He knows that it's June, knows it can't be anyone else but her, and he tries to keep his facial expression from turning into a certain pout, but it proves hard to do so. Truthfully, he doesn't want his time with Harry to end. Wishes he could stay right here and never have to leave because he's enjoyed talking to Harry so far. Not many—if any at all—people talk to Niall to begin with, and the fact that Harry came up to him without even being asked to speaks for itself.

Leaving Harry feels like starting a story and leaving it unfinished, leaving it out in the open and never to be worked on again. But he's fine once he realizes that maybe they can continue whatever it is that they've started so far later on. Soon, Niall hopes. Soon.

It hasn't been long, no, but Niall already can't wait for what's to come.

June slips her clammy fingers into Niall's hand, the one that isn't clutched to his cane, letting him know that they've got to get going, that ending his time with Harry has come sooner that he would've liked.

Niall turns around again to face where he thinks Harry is still sitting, and he's facing I'm a completely different direction, looking beyond Harry's figure, and it makes Harry smile involuntarily as he gazes Niall's way. "Bye, Harry," Niall lets go of June's hand to wave at Harry.

"See you, Niall," Harry calls back, leaving Niall to wonder when they'll speak to each other again next, what they'll talk about whenever they do.

Because Niall really enjoys Harry's company even if he hadn't had much of it, and he his hopes are high that Harry feels the same way too.

 


	5. Four

**Harry**

The air is tough, nipping harshly at Harry's skin. He wears his favorite beanie on top of his head, covering up his soft curls but keeping his ears nice and warm. It's not that cold out, temperature wise, but it's the wind that makes it unbearable, that makes his nose feel numb and his cheeks all red and his lips feel like they need about three tubes of balm just to survive. It's so windy out that he's been forced to pull out his gloves and the thickest scarf he owns, which is wrapped cozily around his neck. It's a lot, there's a lot more clothing than he necessarily likes involved, but that's the price he's been forced to pay this season. On the plus side, at least he's keeping warm.

Reaching out to unhook the lock attached to the gate that leads to Louis'—Louis is Harry's best friend since year nine, inseparable ever since—backyard, Harry steps through the cliche white picket fence, making his way towards the back door that Louis had left unlocked especially for Harry when they decided he'd be over. The boots that cover his feet crush the colorful, fallen leaves on the ground, making a loud crunching sound when Harry walks.

He doesn't bother knocking once he opens the back door and steps inside since he's over quite a lot and finds that bumps there's no need to make his presence known. Louis' house is like a second home to him; his family doesn't really mind anyway.

Inside is warm and toasty, instantly making Harry feel ten times as better than he did walking in the harsh cold. He starts to slide off the mittens that cover his large hands, stiffs them into the pockets of his coat once they're no longer being used to to keep his fingers from turning black and falling off. Walking up the staircase, he takes off his coat, almost hitting Lou'd younger sister, Lottie, in the face with his elbow as he does so. "Oops, sorry," Harry quickly apologizes, only to be shooed away with a scoff and a roll of the blonde girl's eyes.

She's—Lottie's—been going through her rebellious teenager phase lately, the one where she supposedly doesn't give a shit about anyone in the world and hates humanity like its her job to do so.  _Teens_ , Harry thinks to himself, which he still is one, yes, but thank his he never went through this stage. He's nearly eighteen anyway—Lottie is only just barely fifteen. She'll understand one day, she will.

He reaches Louis room by now, laughing like he always does when he sees the 'caution: no girls allowed' sign that's still plastered to the front of his door. It's been up there since he and Harry met and hasn't been taken down ever since. It's hilarious, Harry thinks, how contradicting the poster is now. What a long way they've come.

Again, Harry doesn't bother knocking once he enters Louis' room, or 'man cave' as he likes to call it. Another hilarious thing about Louis. Harry tosses his coat across Louis' bed before he plops down on top of the mattress himself, spreading body out like a starfish, or an awkward giraffe who's still unsure how to use its own limbs. "Hello," Harry drags the word out, lips curling into a sky smirk once he gets a look of the annoyed expression on his best friend's face. "I've arrived."

"I see," Louis rolls his eyes—Harry supposes the action must run in the family. Louis always fails at the whole trying to look bothered thing because he always ruins it by laughing in the end. It always happens. "Took you long enough. I was just about to start marking tallies on my wall to keep track of how many days have passed with a thumb tack."

"It's freezing outside," Harry frowns, and it's a shock that his face isn't stick like that since he tends to do that a lot. "Think my balls are literally frozen. Might need to check to make sure."

Harry starts to push his crotch closer to Louis' face, then, and that's the thing about the two of them. They're just a bunch of fools who joke around with each other a lot, two friends that are so close to each other that it should be considered abnormal and maybe Eve a little taboo, but it's just how they work. Ever since the first day they met, they've been attached to the hip like a pair of conjoined twins.

"You're disgusting," Louis pulls a disgusted face before shoving Harry's body away from his. Harry laughs out loud, eyes cringing at the sides when he throws his head back.

He sits up, then, leans over to get a hand around his shoe and pulling them off of his feet. He chucks his boots across the room carelessly, wriggling his toes that are covered up with a pair of kooky socks before he lies back down on his previous position.

"Liam texted me and told me he's coming over in a bit," Louis announces out loud, but he's not really paying much attention to his surroundings. Harry hums quietly, letting Louis know that he'd heard what he said and is okay with it. Louis starts up again saying, "Zayn, too. He's coming."

"Okay," Harry nods, letting his eyes skip closed for a moment as he rests his folded hands against his chest.

It's quiet for a moment, nothing but the tv that's been left on a low volume to where it's just a soft humming in the background and the sounds of their breathing collectively syncing together. It's nice, the quietness, peaceful and relaxing, something Harry doesn't normally get when he's around Louis. Because he's quite loud, likes to laugh a lot and talk until his throat feels impossibly dry, can't sit still even if he wanted to.

Their two seconds of peace is interrupted by the sound of Louis' voice once again, and this time Harry cracks an eye open once he hears the tone. "Haven't seen you in a while," the blue eyes boy speaks slowly, deliberately, making sure to take his time. Both of Harry's eyes are open by now, and he's sitting up straighter until his back rests against the bed's headboard and he pulls his knees up until they're pressed up against his chest. He wraps his arms around his legs as Louis continues, "You haven't eaten lunch with us in like a week."

Immediately, an image of a certain blond haired boy pops up in Harry's head, and once it's there he can't make it go away. Niall's someone who's been on Harry's mind a lot lately, more than he's used to people being there. He finds himself wondering about the blind boy at the most random times; like when he's eating his breakfast in the mornings before he has to start making his way to school, he thinks about what Niall might be doing at the same time as him. Or in the middle of his lessons with a pencil in one hand and his chin resting on top of his other, he wonders what Niall is like in his own classes, wonders if he's a fast learner or if his disability often slows him down. Or when he's lying in bed at night with the lights turned off while he stares up at the moon, he wonders if Niall thinks about wanting to watch the moon, too, wonders what it would be like if he could give him that—if he could throw a lasso around the moon and pull it down to earth just to place it right in the palm of Niall's hands.

Harry's not sure why he wants to give Niall things all of a sudden, not sure why he wants to know any and every single thing about him this very moment, but he doesn't dwell on the fact that he understands nothing of his emotions right now. He doesn't feel anything for Niall, doesn't really know much about him other than what he's caught on in the last week, but that's something Harry would like to do. He wants to be Niall's friend, feels like he needs that much, feels like Niall deserves all things good.

He doesn't know why he feels such way, can't explain it, but it's true. Harry could give Niall everything if Niall wanted him too. He could try, at least.

"Yeah, I know, sorry," Harry ends up saying. He tends to use that word a lot more than he needs to. Tends to be sorry for things he has no need to be sorry for at all. "I've been sitting to Niall, that's all."

Louis' face scrunches up in confusion, eyes brows furrowing deeply into the middle of his forehead. "Niall?" He questions. "Is that the blind kid?"

Harry doesn't mean to flinch when the words come out, but it's just, they sound so harsh to say. Niall's not just 'that blind kid', and Harry doesn't know much about him, but he's a person first before he's blind so he shouldn't be introduced as something that doesn't define the kind of person he is. It's rude, even if Louis hadn't meant it that way, it still is.

But Harry doesn't correct his friend at all. Tried to push his annoyance all the way to the back of his mind, nodding before he says, "Yeah, Niall."

"Oh," Louis' face seems to clear up, "I've never known his name." Does anyone? "Why are you sitting with him now?"

"Is it a problem?"

"No, no, 'course not," Louis chuckles and it helps to lighten the mood a bit. Harry's not sure when the air around them turned tense, not sure if Louis had noticed at all either, but it's probably because of him. "We were just wondering. Zayn thought we'd done something to piss you off. We haven't, right?"

"I probably wouldn't be here right now if you had."

"Nice because I don't think you could ever last a day without me. That'd be like, like going a day with out food or water—impossible."

Harry almost argues that, technically, it isn't impossible to go a day without food or drink, but he's interrupted once the door to Louis' room bursts open and in come flying Zayn and Liam like a couple of wild zoo animals being let out of their cages. Typical Zayn and Liam behavior.

"Lads!" Liam yells, and Harry's forced to cover his ears with his palms because Liam is  _so loud_.

They both end up flopping right on Louis' bed in the same exact spot that Harry happens to be sitting, too. Harry lets out a breathy oomph, hands flying up to push Liam and Zayn's heavy bodies off of his own. "Jesus Christ, your both a couple of children, I swear," Harry groans dramatically for special effect.

"Hey, Curly," Liam smiles like a little puppy, ruffling the top of Harry's head, and it makes Harry's sour mood instantly soften because he just can't help it when Liam makes that face.

"Haven't seen you in ages," Zayn adds, flicking Harry's toes with his fingers. "Where've you been? You still go to school, right?"

"He's been hanging out with Niall," Louis answers for Harry, and Harry's okay with that since he's not up for explaining himself once again. Not that he needs to, anyway.

Like Louis, Zayn's face scrunches up in confusion, while Liam's thick eyebrows shoot to the top of his head in questioning. It's then that Harry realizes just his little people know exactly who Niall is he's not sure how he feels about that just yet.

"Niall?" Liam repeats, the words heavily laced with uncertainty. "Is he the one with the disability?"

It's the way he says it, like it's a pity that Niall happens to be blind, as if he feels terribly sorry for him, that makes Harry's insides twist with a certain unsettling feeling. He feels it deep in his core, like prominent entity, and it's an unpleasant feeling, one that Harry wishes he never has to feel again.

It isn't fair that this is how Niall is known. It's not right at all.

The silence in Harry's answer is an answer in itself. Catching on, Liam takes it as a yes, nodding, and letting the conversation die out once he sets it free. "Oh, well, that's nice," he says after a while, once he deems it okay to speak again. "He's never got anyone else around him, so I suppose it's a good thing Harry is there."

 _Maybe_ , Harry mentally says to himself. He hopes so.

For the rest of the time, Harry thoughts are far away. And while his friends laugh and tell stupid jokes and hang out like the rowdy boys that they are, Harry spends his time thinking about Niall, wondering if Niall thinks about him just as much, too.

 


	6. Five

**Niall**

Sitting outside alone like he always during his lunch period, Niall involuntarily finds himself anxiously waiting for Harry's arrival. It's weird how fast his heart beats, how his knee can't seem to stop shaking underneath the table he sits at, how eager he is to speak to Harry once again. He simply can't help it. It's been a few days since Harry was in his company with the weekend passing by, and Niall finds himself yearning to be near his new friend once more.

Niall's not completely sure if he can consider Harry a friend now exactly. They've not known each other long enough to know much about one another, but Niall likes to think that maybe this could be the start of something. He's not had many friends to call his own throughout his life, and maybe that's why he's so excited about whatever it is he has with Harry. Because he makes Niall feel like a normal human being; so far, he's made Niall feel like he's more than just the blind kid people seem to think he is, and to him that says a lot.

He's not sure how long he sits around patiently waiting for Harry's arrival, but the longer he has to wait, the more his mood starts to dim. Maybe it was just a one time thing, Niall starts to wonder, maybe Harry's started to realize that he doesn't actually enjoy being around Niall as much as Niall was led on. It's a feeling that settles deep into Niall's stomach, finds a home within his bones and doesn't plan on moving out for quite some time.

He starts to worry, starts to nibble on his bottom lip with nervous teeth as if it's his favorite meal. His heart feels heavy yet empty all at once, but Niall's not sure what to do about it. He doesn't want to be sad, doesn't want to be disappointed that Harry has not shown up yet, but if he never does, Niall would be left with no other choice than to feel that way. He starts to wonder what he did wrong, _if_ he'd done anything wrong, but the thought is immediately tossed away like last week's trash when Niall feels a presence joining him at the table he sits at, and he doesn't want to feel joy, doesn't want to smile like the idiot he feels like at the moment, but there are some things in life that just can't be helped.

It's Harry, and Niall can tell by the string of apologies that leave the other's mouth that his assumption is correct. Harry sounds a bit breathless, like he's just got back from running an entire marathon, and it makes Niall's eyebrows furrow. Niall lays his cane to rest next to him before he leans forward, adjusting his glasses, and says, "Are you okay? You sound like you need assistance breathing."

"Good," Harry lets out, words short and choppy, clipped from attempting to catch up with his own breathing patterns. "'M good, just—I ran all the way over here from the cafeteria. Sorry."

Niall's still confused, but he doesn't know what to ask about. "Do you run a lot?" He chooses to question, a peculiar expression taking over his features.

"Huh?" Harry says after taking in a nice, deep breath. Niall wonders if he wears a frown on his face, wonders if his lips are scrunched up in an odd way, wonders if his hands rest on top of the table or underneath, but then he stops himself from thinking any further once it comes to mind that he'll never know those answers. It kind of sucks.

"You were running when I first met you," Niall speaks slowly, "I just figured you like to run a lot."

Harry lets out a chuckle almost as if what Niall's just said is the funniest joke he's ever heard in his life. It wasn't meant to be funny, but Niall likes the sound Harry makes when he laughs anyway. "No," Harry snorts. "I'm just always running late for something it seems."

"Why were you running?"

It takes a moment for Harry to answer, which makes Niall's body tense in his seat, feeling like he's said something to somehow set Harry off. But he visibly relaxes, then, knows he's in the clear, once Harry's voice starts up again. "I usually hang out with my friends during lunch so I was with them in the cafeteria. But then I realized that I'd left you out here alone and I didn't want to be late. Sorry."

That alone makes Niall's heart swell, gets his stomach twisting in unnatural ways that he can't explain, and it's weird. It's weird because Niall's never had anyone think about him like Harry does. Does Harry keep him in mind with everything that he does? Does he worry about Niall, does he feel sorry for him and only want to be around him because of that, or are Harry's intentions genuine? Does Harry truly want to be Niall's friend in the first place? These are questions that Niall thinks about a lot, more than he should probably, but he's not entirely sure if he'll ever be able to figure them out at all.

"You know you don't have to sit with me, Harry," Niall admits, keeping his voice low. His shoulders slump and his lips curve into the tiniest pout, and he shouldn't feel down but he can't help that he does. "You can sit with your own friends, I wouldn't be mad."

In this very moment, there's nothing more that Niall wishes for than to see the look on Harry's face right now. It's a bummer that he'll never be able to know either.

"I don't mind, I promise." Harry tells Niall. And the tone of his voice is sincere, makes Niall feel like he's okay again, makes everything feel like it's just right. Like it's right where it needs to be. "My friends, they don't mind either. It's okay."

"Okay," Niall nods, still unsure but he chooses to let it go. If Harry says all is okay, then for now he's going to believe him. So far, Harry's given Niall no reason to think otherwise.

The rest of the lunch period is easy. Harry's a little awkward at times, finds himself stumbling over words and always makes sure to ask Niall if he's okay with certain things, if he's comfortable with certain questions Harry asks him, but for the most part everything between the two is simple. Niall feels like he's known Harry his whole life, feels like they're long lost friends who happened to cross paths again, and it's nice. It's a warm feeling inside that makes Niall feel good—he's happy whenever he's around Harry. Because Harry is like the light in an empty room full of black. Harry's the sunshine peeking through on a cloudy day, and they don't know much about each other, no, but it feels like they do. Everything seems to fall into place with them, everything just feels natural. It feels right.

"Niall?" Harry speaks up, then. Niall's eyebrows quirk up curiously, and there's a crunching sound that Niall only assumes is coming from Harry's lunch bag.

"Hmmm?" Niall hums.

Harry clears his throat but doesn't hesitate to answer. "I was thinking that maybe, uh, we should hang out together outside of school. We should hang out if that's something you're comfortable with."

The air around them is silent when Harry finishes speaking, and Niall finds that he at a loss for words. It's like, in this moment, his ears have gone numb and all that can be heard is this white noise and nothing else, and it's weird. Niall's taken aback a bit from Harry's question; it isn't because the suggestion itself out him off because it hadn't. Niall doesn't mind the question, definitely doesn't mind that Harry actually seems to genuinely want to spend more time with him, either. He's mostly speechless because he's never been in this position before. Niall's not used to having friends or holding conversations or having someone else around to accompany him, and he definitely isn't used to hanging out with others either.

It's—it's overwhelming at best, overwhelming in a nice way that calms him down, puts a warm feeling in his belly that he likes, that makes him feel good, and this—whatever it is that's blossoming with Harry—is all Niall's ever wanted, really, and he'd be lying if he ever said he wasn't thankful that Harry could give him this. Because Niall needs whatever this is—he needs it a lot. He deserves every last bit of it.

But there's also that little bit of concern that edges its way to the front of his mind, that bit of unsureness that has him hesitating to spit out answer. "I don't know," Niall admits sheepishly, fumbling with his fingers in his lap. He wants to, he really wants to, but he's just not sure. "My—um, my parents, they don't really let me go anywhere."

"Really?" Harry asks shockingly, but there's something in his voice that Niall can't exactly pinpoint that makes him sound like he's sorry in a way. Like he can't actually believe what Niall's just mentioned.

"Yeah," Niall nods, "that's a perk of being blind, I guess." He chuckles lowly but there's really nothing all that funny about it at all.

There's a moment of hesitation, Niall feels. Makes his cheeks tint a tidy color, makes him feel like maybe there's just some things that don't exactly need to be said. "You know, you do that a lot—remind people about the fact that you're blind." Harry mumbles, but his voice is sweet and rich like a smooth caramel and it makes Niall's heart want to melt for some reason he can't explain why.

"It's a habit, I guess." Niall shrugs. "It's just, it's easier this way, you know? A habit, I suppose."

And no, Harry doesn't know, doesn't know about anything Niall's ever gone through and he'll never know either. He doesn't know how Niall feels, whether it be in this moment, a long time ago, or some time in the future, he'll never be able to understand anything Niall had ever had to put up with, but he doesn't say anything about it. Just nods his head, hums a bit when he realizes that Niall can't see him doing that. He doesn't understand but he could listen, he could try, he could be there. If Niall needs him, Harry could be right there by his side.

"S'okay," Harry tells Niall softly. "Why don't your parents let you go anywhere?"

Niall huffs harshly, friend because thinking about his parents sometimes makes him angry. And he knows that they're his parents, knows he probably shouldn't think this way and he loves them to death, he does, but he can't help it. His parents, to be quite frank, are a pain in the ass. They're an overwhelming cloud of smoke that Niall finds hard to maneuver himself through half the time.

"They just—I don't know. I know they want the best for me and I appreciate them a lot for that, but they treat me like I'm some dumb ass, like I'm a fuckin' kindergartner who can't take care of himself sometimes and it's just really frustrating."

And, wow. Niall's never shown Harry this side of him before, had never been so passionate about anything before, but this is exactly the way Niall is. He's passionate and once you begin to crack his hard exterior he says what's on his mind and he opens up and he feels like he can open up to Harry. Or at least start to. He already feels more comfortable around Harry than he has around June or his party's his entire life. That alone speaks for itself, it does.

"Sorry," Niall is the one to apologize this time. "Sorry, it's just, it's like they don't trust me, don't think I can do anything just because I'm blind. They're always so cautious and careful around me like I'll break if they even lay a finger on me. I hate it."

"Hey," Harry mumbles, voice quiet and airy and light like a simple feather floating gently through the wind. Niall's voice gets caught in his throat then when he feels a warm hand being placed right above his. "Are you okay?"

And yeah, yeah Niall's okay. He's fine; a little annoyed, a bit frustrated, but overall fine. He's used to it anyway, used to a lot of things in his life so he sees no reason to complain, really. But he can't deny that it's nice, being able to confide in someone else, to pour his feelings out to another even if they barely started speaking to each other not too long ago. It feels good, feels nice to be making a friend. Finally.

"I'm okay," Niall nods, but he feels a little empty when he feels Harry's hand start to slip away. "Thanks, Harry."

"No problem," Harry grins, and although Niall can't see it, he's sure Harry's smile is one of a kind either way.

"No," Niall shakes his head. "I mean thanks for being my friend."

Niall's still not sure if he can classify Harry as a friend yet, but it doesn't matter because he's already said it and getting that off of his chest makes him feel better than he should, makes him feel nice, makes him feel a little invincible.

Going by the chuckle that Harry lets out, maybe he was still unsure, too, but it puts a smile on Niall's face when Harry tells him that again it's no problem, tells him, "I'm glad I could be that for you." And maybe, just maybe, Niall's smile is here to stay. As long as he's with Harry it won't ever leave.


	7. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry for the long wait for this chapter! I had not planned on taking as long as I did to update at all. Sorry again, I hope everyone enjoys this chapter, and I'll try no to take so long with getting the next one up. Thank you so much for reading :)

**Harry**

It's weird. It's a weird feeling for a person to be such a persistent thought, for someone to be like that of a tick just pestering, lingering at the back of Harry's mind. But Niall's not just a sliver in Harry's mind anymore, he's a prominent constant that just won't go away even if he wanted it to. He's a thought that crosses every now and then, that pushes its way towards the front of Harry's brain without his permission to do so, and it's weird. Harry doesn't understand why Niall is constantly on his mind, mixed into his thoughts like white chocolate swirled into dark, but he can't help it. Sometimes he'll think about the blond and wonder if Niall does the same thing, too.

It's a theory of his that he has, that what if the reason that he happens to think about Niall so much is because Niall is doing the same. Maybe they're connected in a way that Harry will never understand, that he'll never be quite sure of; maybe this is the world's way of telling him that Niall is supposed to be here, is supposed to be right there taking over Harry's brain like he owns the damn place. Maybe it's a sign—it could be. Harry kind of hopes it is.

Harry doesn't understand why, though. Why he's so attached to a boy he barely even knows yet is a mystery in itself, but he hopes he will one day. He hopes that in the future he'll be able to know any and everything there is about the quiet boy, everything that Niall wants him to know, but most of all he hopes that it will all make sense soon enough. Hopes that he'll be able to fully comprehend his vibrant yet redundant thoughts, but until then he's left to just wonder. Left wondering what it is about the blind boy that has Harry so hooked.

He's a fish that's been allured by the bait, a bee attracted to the fresh, floral scent of pollen, but he finds that he doesn't exactly mind the feeling. And maybe it's weird, maybe it's a bit crazy, too, but nobody has to know. Nobody has to know but him, and that alone calms his jittery senses. That alone makes him feel a little sane.

Is he, though? Sane, that is. Lately, he hasn't been too sure.

The weather outside is atrocious. There's an obnoxious amount of rain pouring down from the clouds above in buckets it seems, layering the town in a sheet of wetness, drenching every and anything in sight. The sky's an ugly grey color, one that would probably bring his mood down if he were sitting at home right now, having nothing else to do but to sit and think.

Harry's not a big fan of rain, not a big fan of anything cold and wet either. Because wet on top of cold only makes things worse, it's a recipe for disaster, really—nothing good ever comes out of it. Like now; now since it's raining cats and dogs outside and Harry usually makes his way outside to find Niall during their lunch period, his usual routine had been altered and he's not exactly sure how he feels about that part just yet.

Harry doesn't think not being able to spend lunchtime outside will be all that bad, though. He hasn't eaten with his own friends for a while, so he figures that they've missed him enough by now for him to swing by, figures no one will mention anything about his absence lately if he does. It seems like the perfect opportunity, too, feels like maybe the rain has worked in his favor today after all.

He's been meaning to ask Niall about some things lately, thought it'd be nice if he could introduce the quiet not to his own friends now. Because Harry considers Niall a friend of his own now, and he knows that Niall's not got a lot of friends to call his own. It makes him kind of sad when he thinks about it, puts him down a bit when he thinks about people not giving Niall a chance. It's not a good feeling in any way, and Harry can't help but feel sorry for Niall. He doesn't want to, doesn't want to pity him for any reason at all, but it's a feeling he can't help. It's a feeling he has no control over whatsoever.

Niall is a good person, though. So far, from what Harry can tell, he's a kind spirit; he's nice and he listens and despite his disability, he's still got a good head on his shoulders. There isn't a thing to not like about Niall yet, and it sucks knowing that no one else cares that much enough to figure out that side of Niall, to get to know him as someone else besides the blindness he just so happens to possess.

Since Niall can't be outside like he normally is today, Harry's not sure where else he could be. He's not sure where to find him, and he's not sure where he could've gone as an alternative. He figures he isn't in the cafeteria simply because it doesn't seem like a place Niall would be comfortable being in on his own. It's way too crowded for Niall's introverted personality; way too loud and bright and full of commotion and noise for someone like Niall.

Harry makes his way towards his locker, then, to stop by and pick up his lunch before he goes on his journey to find that one person he can't seem to get off his mind. The hallways are pretty much empty save for a few stray students roaming around here and there. Harry counts the amount of steps it takes for him to reach his locker, green eyes glued to the shoes that cover his feet as he does.

He makes it up to fifty eight when he finally gets there, and when he does he notices that he's not alone. Niall stands right next to Harry's locker, number three hundred and twenty eight, focusing his obscured gaze in a general direction. He's got June by his side like always, but the look on her face lets Harry know that she'd rather be somewhere else.

He knows how much June doesn't like to be Niall's babysitter. It's obvious that she'd prefer to be able to be on her own without having to watch over another person, and that alone angers Harry. Because making sure Niall is okay, making sure he gets to and from where he needs to be without any problems doesn't seem like such a crime to him. Doesn't seem so bad, not as bad as June makes it out to be. It's kind of rude—especially given Niall's circumstances, especially knowing that he doesn't have much of choice—for her to think such things. And she's never voiced those words out loud before, no, but it's written all over her face like a permanent marker bleeding into the surface of her skin. She doesn't have to say anything at all—Harry already knows.

Niall must sense Harry's presence by now since he turns towards Harry's direction and starts to make his way towards where Harry stands. He removes himself from June's grasp, and Harry feels kind of smug about it. Feels kind of proud how much Niall would obviously rather be around him than he would June.

He probably shouldn't feel this way, no, since Niall's not a possession of his in any sort of way. He doesn't own Niall, and they're just barely friends, but Harry can't seem to shake the feeling. He feels accomplished in a way, like he's got something more than June will ever have.

It's a petty thought to have, especially since Harry can't even understand his own at the moment, but luckily nobody is aware of whatever it is that happens to cross his mind but him. Thank god for that.

"Harry?" Niall questions softly, and the way Harry's lips curve up into a little smile is pathetic enough, really. It's like he's completely out of total control of his own actions lately. What could that possibly mean? "Is that you?"

Harry nods in response, but then he's reminded about the fact that Niall can't exactly see his actions. He blushes uncontrollably, spitting out an awkward, "Oh, yeah. It's me."

He goes to get his locker open now to take his mind off of the embarrassment he's currently under. He spins the dial, puts his code in, and as soon as he pulls open the red, metal door, he grabs his sack of lunch and slams the locker closed without meaning to.

Niall jolts in place at the sudden noise, and Harry's quick to apologize for it. Actually, when is he ever not apologizing about something? "Sorry," he quickly says. "I didn't mean to do that."

"S'okay," Niall shrugs, a quiet chuckle exiting from between pink lips.

June clears her throat, then, pulling Harry out of his sudden trance and back into reality once again. He'd been staring right at Niall's mouth for some odd reason he can't explain, but he's not exactly sure why. It's a good thing Niall can't see the way his face flushes a harsh red at the moment. It definitely saves him a ton of embarrassment.

"I'm gonna go now, Niall," she announces, but  Niall doesn't say anything back. He only nods, finds himself shifting closer to Harry's body when he does so, and Harry's not exactly sure if Niall is aware that he's doing so or if it's a subconscious action, but he doesn't mention it. "I'll see you in a bit, then."

June doesn't wait for another response before she starts to make her way down the hallway and is soon enough out of sight. Niall lets out a breath that Harry hadn't known he was holding in until now. He assumes it could only be because June is no longer around, and that gets him thinking. Gets him blurting out his words before he even realizes he's doing so.

He tends to do that as lot. Tends to do a lot of awkward things around Niall now that he thinks about it.

"I wouldn't mind helping you around school, you know," Harry lets Niall know. He's not given much of a chance to be nervous about the suggestion seeing as he hadn't given himself time to really think it through. He's got time now, though, and now his nerves have caught up to him, making him sound like an embarrassing, rambling fool. _Too late now._ "I mean, because, y'know, you don't seem all that comfortable around June, and I just thought—it was just a suggestion, though. You don't have to—"

"Really?" Niall cuts Harry off by saying. His eyebrows have raised to the top of his forehead now, and for some reason the sight makes Harry happy. He's wouldn't be able to explain why, though.

"Um, yeah," Harry scratches the back of his neck with somewhat shaky fingers. "If that's something you'd want, I mean. I wouldn't mind."

"Okay," Niall agrees without missing a beat in between. His lips curve upward and there's that feeling of pride again warming up Harry's heart. "That's okay."

"Alright," Harry chimes, and his voice sounds like music floating through the wind. "I figured since it's raining outside today we could sit with my friends if that's something you'd be okay with."

Niall's face pales, then, but it's not that easy to notice at first. His smile is no longer dancing on his lips, and Harry wonders if he's crossed the line now. If he's passed the spot that marks Niall's level of comfort already, just in the span of a few short minutes.

Niall nibbles on his bottom lip nervously, his grip just barely tightening around the cane he holds between his fingers. "Sorry," Harry speaks that word like it's his favorite one to say, "I'm sorry if that's no something you'd be comfortable with. I just thought I'd ask."

The blond shakes his head quietly, takes in a tiny breath before his lips part again. "I don't know," he mumbles truthfully, and that all Harry could ever ask for, honestly. As long as Niall lets him know what he wants, he doesn't mind. "I'm just not used to being around a lot of people. You don't have to be sorry."

Harry wishes he could tell his new friend that he understands. And he does understand to a certain extent, that is, but he'll never be able to understand Niall in the way that he's like to. He'll never be able to understand until he's been what Niall had been and continues to go through.

"No worries," Harry insists. "We can find somewhere else to go, I'm sure."

Harry's taken by surprise when Niall wraps one of his hands around Harry's bicep tightly, almost as if he's afraid to ever let go. He holds onto Harry, depends on him for a bit of support for the time being, and in this moment Harry finds himself thinking that if Niall ever needs him, he'll be there. He'll be right there, right by Niall's side, without a single second thought about it. He'll be there without a doubt.


	8. Seven

**Niall**

The Friday night moonlight pools throughout his room, just barely casting a faint glow and illuminating the area around him. It's late, a little around one in the morning, and usually Niall would be fast asleep by now, eyes closed shut as hushed snores crawl from between parted lips, but he has trouble doing so. Can't seem to shut his brain off, can't change the mental dial in his mind to the snooze setting to save his life. He's never one to let overthinking engross him, to let it keep him awake at night, but there's a lot of things Niall doesn't know about himself, plenty of things he still has to find out.

He starts to wonder what might be on Harry's mind at the moment, and since the thought of his new friend is the one thing that's been keeping him up, it wouldn't hurt to think of him a little bit more, right? Niall wonders if Harry's awake just like he is now—if he's watching silly sitcoms on his tv with the volume turned down real low so he won't disturb anyone else's sleep; if he's counting sheep above his head one by one just to pass the time, or if he's bundled up cozily, blankets wrapped tightly around his body as sleep consumes his mind unlike Niall at the moment.

Niall wonders what Harry looks like when he sleeps, in a totally far from creepy way, of course. Niall wonders if he smiles a bit subconsciously while he dreams, or if he drools a bit on top of his pillow case, or if he's a terrible, terrible snorer, or if he sleeps peacefully with no interruptions whatsoever, or what if he tosses and turns and kicks about instead? Niall wonders a lot about Harry, wonders if it'd be weird if he hopes that Harry does the same about him, too.

The feeling is foreign to Niall. He can't understand why Harry's already taken such a strong toll on him, why he feels so attached to a boy he barely knows much about. What does it all mean? And—and is Niall crazy for feeling this way? Has he gone mad? He sure hopes not.

There's a new book he's purchased playing softly in his ears, a soothingly sweet voice that whispers a story back at him, but he has absolutely no clue about anything he's just heard. Even when Harry's not around he still somehow has a deep affect on Niall. He must be crazy, he has to be going absolutely mad.

Sighing, Niall goes to pull the headphones shoved into his ears out. He reaches a hand out to find the dresser placed at the side of his bed, and when he does, he sets the device that reads all of his favorite stories to him right on top. Niall tugs at the sheets across his bed until they cover up his body, until he's tucked nicely underneath, cozy and warm, and he tries not to let the thought of Harry cross his mind again until he drifts into a deep, deep slumber.

***

Saturday mornings, Niall and his mum take their weekly trip to the farmers market. Niall's not particularly a big fan of going, would rather sit in his backyard and listen to the trees rustle in the wind and the birds chirping up above and let the dewy, morning air kiss his skin instead, but Niall's dad works Saturday mornings and Niall's mother is still afraid to let him stay home by himself, so there's that. What are his parents going to do when he's out on his own one day? Are they going to continue to worry about him then, or will they finally figure out that Niall is fully capable of taking care of himself for a change? Knowing his mum and dad, though, there's absolutely no telling what the answers to those questions may be.

Niall's mum makes him stay close by her side, makes him keep one hand gripped onto the handle of the cart she pushes while his other clutches that all too familiar white cane he always has around. It's kind of pathetic when he thinks about it; he's a seventeen year old boy who's mum still treats him like a five year old toddler even though he's far away from ever being that. It's sad, really, heartbreaking to know that this is how his own mother views her son. And it's not that Niall believes her intentions are bad, no, he knows everything she does for him is all in good nature, knows she means absolutely no harm whatsoever, but—but it still hurts. He feels like a prisoner in his own family sometimes. And if that's not the worst feeling in the world, Niall would like to know exactly what is.

He tries not to let it upset him, though, tries not to let it get to him, and for that he's kind of a strong person. He's been through a lot, been through the most and then some, but he's still here. He's still here and he still tries and he still keeps a positive (well as positive as he can be) outlook on life, so that has to mean something. He's gotta be worth something in the world.

And he is—he is, and sometimes it doesn't feel like it, but he knows it's there. He's worth it, alright. Every single bit of it. And one day, maybe, his parents and everyone else he knows will realize that, too.

He continues to trudge alongside his mother while she carries on adding different items into their basket. They make their way throughout the store, weaving in and out of various aisles for hours it seems, but Niall's sure it only feels that way because, one, he doesn't exactly want to be here right now, and two, he's completely unaware of his surroundings so time seems to be passing by slow, slow, slow.

He could be a proper nuisance right now, could act like the child his mother perceives him to be and moan and groan and whine until she finally gives in and they make their way home again, but that's something Niall's never been and will never be. He's actually pretty mature for his age; very determined and goal orientated and he's got his eyes set right on the prize. Well, theoretically, of course.

Niall assumes that he and his mum are in a freezer aisle of some sort going by the cool temperature, the sharp iciness that suddenly licks at his skin. Gooseflesh rises all over his skin and he shivers a bit where he stands. He hears his mother chuckle from beside him, and it makes him laugh a little, too. He likes the sound of his mum's laughter, likes how happy the bubbly noise makes him feel. There's warm fingers ruffling through his messy hair that lays flat on his forehead before there's a quiet click of teeth and his mum's voice fills his ears. "Forgot the eggs in the other aisle," she says, mainly to herself, Niall presumes. "Wait here for a second, Ni, okay?"

Niall bites his lip but ultimately nods, silently gesturing to her that okay, he'll wait right here for her. Besides, he's not got much elsewhere to go anyway. His mum gently squeezes his shoulder for a split second before she's off and he's momentarily left alone. And it's not that he doesn't mind standing here by himself for a few minutes, but he won't lie and say that it doesn't make him just a tad self conscious. He can hear fellow shopping carts gliding by all around him, knows a few people here and there have glanced suspiciously at him, probably wondered what a poor, little blind boy is doing all on his own. Maybe it's 'cause he's used to it, or maybe he's just being awfully paranoid, but he can feel eyes on him, watching him, most like judging or pitying him, and it makes him feel weird. Puts an unsettling feeling deep down in the pit of his stomach, deep in the core, and it's not been long but he kind of wishes his mum would come back now.

He stands there awkwardly, shifting on one foot to the other. He keeps a hand on their basket, keeps a protective hold on his cane because it's kind of like a natural instinct for him to do so by now. It's like something that his body is programmed to do, something he doesn't even think about, doesn't even realizing he's doing at first. He stands there and he waits and he wonders exactly what's taking his mother so long to get a carton of eggs, but his thoughts are unexpectedly halted when another cart comes colliding into his very own all of a sudden.

Niall flinches a little, makes an exasperated noise at the back of his throat before he's apologizing without thinking about it even though he really didn't have to in the first place. He wasn't the one who'd bumped into them. "Sorry," he mutters, face hot and red with embarrassment. "Am I in your way?" He asks, voice low and soft and barely audible.

"Oh shit," someone curses. "No, uh, sorry that was all me."

Niall nods a little, kind of frowns as he goes to pull the cart he holds onto back to move out of the way because the voice sounds fairly familiar, and then he starts to perk up a bit because he recognizes that voice and it's awfully sad how he does so soon. He's just about to ask, but the same voice keeps him from doing so. He knew he recognized that tone somewhere.

"Niall?" They ask, and it's Harry because of course it is. Of course he would quite literally crash into Harry on a Saturday morning trip to the farmers market with his mum. Of course he would—he starts to wonder if this kind of thing will become some type of routine from here on out. He wouldn't exactly mind if it did. "Sorry," Harry says, and somehow he's always apologizing for something. Every single time. "I didn't—I didn't see you there. What're you doing here?"

"Grocery shopping?" Niall tells him like it's the obvious thing, which it is since they're, you know, standing in the middle of a store and what not.

Harry chuckles awkwardly, and Niall pictures Harry with rosy tinted cheeks on the face he imagines in his head when he thinks about him. It's just a blank canvas, really, since Niall's not exactly sure what faces even look like at all. He doesn't know what color a rosy one would be either, doesn't know what cheeks look like, only how they feel and that's about it. His fingertips are his eyes in a way and they see everything for him. Maybe he'll ask Harry what his face feels like one day. Maybe his touch will be able to see him one day. But first he'll have to muster up the courage to do so, of course.

"Oh yeah," Harry lets out a short laugh. "Duh."

Niall can't help the giggle that slips from his mouth without permission and he doesn't try to hide it either. Harry makes him feel good, makes him smile and feel happy and Harry should know. Harry should know exactly what he does to him.

"My mum just made me run and grab a few things for her real quick." Harry goes on like he's got all the time in the world. "She's been chatting up a guy that she's known for a bit. They just bumped into each other. I think she likes him."

Niall doesn't get a chance to respond but it's okay because he's not sure what he would've said anyway. He hears his mother's voice again, feels her putting something into their cart while she says, "Sorry I took so long. It takes time finding a good batch of eggs."

And, apparently his mum's an expert at searching for perfect eggs now. Huh.

"Alright, Ni," she adds. "I think that's it for today."

Niall visibly relaxes, then, let's out a sigh of relief but then he remembers Harry and his smile starts to fade at the thought of having to leave him behind until Monday rolls back around.

"Oh, sorry," his mother calls out once she notices Harry standing before the two of them. "Are we in your way?"

And Niall and Harry laugh collectively, share a few private giggles remembering how Niall had just asked the same question not too long ago. His mum looks between the two suspiciously, her eyes shifting between both boys curiously as if she were mentally asking what the hell was going on right now.

"No," Harry speaks around a chuckle that's now a sound that's dying out. "No, ma'am, you're not."

Niall hears wheels of a shopping cart gliding across the tiled floor he stands on, and since theirs isn't moving he guesses that it's Harry's. And there's that sinking feeling again, a slight emptiness, a sense of disappointment because he's got Harry right there in front of him, right in arms reach, and now he's got to leave him again.

"Well, I guess I'll see you Monday then, Niall, yeah?" Harry tells Niall, and although Niall eyes don't operate in the way they're supposed to, he can still feel Harry's very own watching him and that kind of makes him feel important. Kind of makes him feel worth something, and he is—Niall is worth everything.

"Mhm," Niall hums and nods because he's afraid to use his voice right now at the moment.

"Okay," Harry says, and Niall just bets there's a smile upon his face. God, he hopes there is. "See you."

And then it's quiet again, and Niall can't help the barely there grin that starts to appear. It always happens.

"Who's that?" His mother questions from Niall's side.

He shrugs, kind of smug, kind of nonchalant, "My friend." He says. He's never been so proud of the word 'friend' before in his life.

His mum hums quietly to herself; it's a happyish sound, more curious than anything, though, but it's there. It's there now fused together with Harry's voice once again, and Niall thought he left already but apparently not. He starts to smile a bit again.

"Um," he starts up again shakily, voice nervous and trembling just a tiny bit as he speaks. He lets out a puff of air and continues with a, "do you like pottery? I mean, have you ever tried doing pottery before?"

It's a bizarre question alright, one that cause Niall's face to scrunch up and snort a little to himself because no, he's never done pottery before and had never thought about trying it either. But now that Harry's brought it up it doesn't sound like such a bad thing after all.

Yeah, he's mad. Oh well.

"No," Niall shakes his head timidly. His fingers toy with the cane in his hand (a nervous habit) and he focused his attention on the ground beneath them. "Why?"

Niall doesn't know how he knows this, but he's pretty sure there's a wide grin taking over Harry's features right now. He's not sure what makes him think that at all but he definitely feels it. He feels Harry's smile shining right down on him like the sun sitting high in the sky.

"Well, mum and I—we're gonna try making vases when we get home. You can come too if you want, she won't mind" And then Niall feels Harry directing his attention to his mum when he mentions just to make sure, "I mean, if—if that's okay with you, of course."

Niall feels his cheeks burning, burning, burning like no tomorrow.

"Oh, sorry, I'm Harry by the way. I go to the same school as Niall."

Niall nods eagerly in agreement as if that'll persuade his mother in some way, and he hasn't agreed to Harry's offering yet, has been given permission to join him at all, but he feels no need to confirm it by now. The answer's written all over his face like handwritten script inked on a blank page.

"Niall?" His mother speaks up, and Niall's heart starts to race, starts to worry if this is her way of telling him no, if this is her way of turning him down. And Niall keeps a hopeful look on his face, tries to plead in the form of facial expressions just in case. "Would you like to go?"

"Sure," Niall replies, trying to seem cool, calm, and collected but inside there's a fire raging, there's a fiesta going down hyping everything up and up and up. "If that's okay."

"Okay then," she agrees and—is this real life? Is his mother actually letting him go ahead without him having to stay right underneath his nose? She must be going crazy, too. She has to be.

But he's not going to say that out loud, though. He'll just go with it in case she decides to change her mind.

"You can call me if you need anything, alright?" She asks Niall in a hushed voice, keeping her words a private conversation between just the two of them. And Niall nods, tells her okay, and his face gets hit again when she presses a kiss to his cheek, and Harry chuckles at him but it's okay because Niall likes the sound. "You boys have fun, then."

Niall's guided towards Harry, then, and when they're next to each other Harry holds his arm out and Niall curls his fingers around his bicep, and Niall doesn't know why he feels certain ways, strange feelings around Harry, doesn't know what it all means, but hopefully he'll find out one day. Hopefully he'll find out soon.

Because this is all new to him, something he's never experienced before, and he's still trying to figure it all out. He's got a lot to figure out now, but he's willing to wait. He's got time.

"I'd like to meet your mum first, though, Harry," Niall's mother chimes in once they start to make their way down the aisle.

Niall chuckles and Harry snickers, and of course she would. Of course. "Sure thing," Harry says, nods. And Niall feels him smiling again, feels what he can't see with his eyes, and it feels good. Feels good like the sun shining right down on him as it sits up high in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not sure about the ending of this chapter but I guess it'll do. let me know what you think? thanks for reading :)


	9. Eight

**Harry**

There's something different hidden in Niall's expression when he glances his way, Harry notices. He's witnessed Niall's smile before, seen his cheeks glow a faint red, seen how the fluorescent lights reflect off of his aligned teeth, but he's never seen him smile this way. It's different, Harry finds, seems more genuine and pure, an honest happiness that Harry hopes will never ever fade from here on out. And it kind of warms his soul, warms his heart and his whole body in a way he can't exactly pinpoint, but it feels good. It feels good knowing that he's pretty sure it's because of him, and that alone gets his stomach bubbling with excitement, with the pride that shines brightly from within.

Niall's kind of, sort of beautiful, Harry suddenly realizes out of the blue. And It's kind of weird because he's never thought about Niall this way, never looked at him as anything more, but it's all he can see now. And he's got smudges of clay smeared across his cheeks and a little painting the edges of his hair from the pottery they've been messily working on, but still Niall's really actually pretty. It's strange to think about, but it's true. Even when his eyes are covered up by thick framed sunglasses that take up half his face, he's still a sight to see.

His smile is nervous, tentative and timid, but he still smiles anyway and that's good enough for Harry. Harry knows Niall's been through a lot in his life, a lot he'll never be able to understand even if he tries, and Harry's not sure how Niall feels all the time—if he's happy enough as he should be, if he ever gets sad, if his heart ever feels heavy with loneliness—but he's happy that he can witness Niall's laughter, happy that he's a part of the reason why Niall shines like he is now.

They're both pretty shit at pottery, Harry quickly comes to find out. He hadn't predicted to be as bad as he is when he pictured it before, but now that he's here it all makes sense. Niall's not much better either, and Harry assumes it's because he just so happens to be missing a key component to his senses but that's okay. Harry's vase ends up looking like a deformed bowl instead, disappointingly, and Niall's still looks like the initial blob of muddy clay they started out with, but at least he's having fun. He's trying and he seems to genuinely be enjoying himself at the moment so that's all that really matters most importantly. And if Harry can be the one to make him smile all the time, he just wouldn't mind sticking by his side to help. Because happiness looks great on Niall—Harry just hopes it stays.

"Looking great," Harry compliments sweetly, referring to the work of art Niall's made. It looks like complete shit though if he's being honest, but it's the fact that it was made with Niall's own two hands that makes it something worthwhile. Besides, Harry quite likes the blush that sweeps across Niall's boyish face when he tells him that. It puts a funny feeling in the pit of his stomach that he doesn't fully understand yet.

"Really?" Niall questions with his eyebrows raised up like he doesn't believe it as he faces the sound of Harry's voice. "Doesn't feel like it."

"Well I think it's nice."

"Okay," Niall nods, a faint smile growing upon his features. "If you say so, Harry."

Harry grins; he wishes Niall could witness it. "I'm saying so."

The way Niall's skin glows at Harry's appreciations sets something off inside of him, makes his heart stutter and his palms feel wet with perspiration. It's odd, too, because Harry's never been this way around his new friend. At least he doesn't think so; and if he has, he surely hasn't realized it until now. Maybe it's just because Niall's a good soul to be around, 'cause he makes Harry feel warm and content whenever they're with each other. Or maybe it's something else, he's not sure, but whatever it is, Harry just hopes he understands soon. He also hopes that maybe Niall might possibly feel the same way.

Eventually, once they've finished with their pottery session, Harry helps his mum tidy up the mess they've created, and once they're finish Harry helps guide Niall towards the kitchen to help clean themselves up and get rid of all the leftover clay that clung to their fingertips.

"Harry, why don't you show Niall your room, yeah?" His mother suggests as the two boys lather up the soap in the palm of their hands. Harry's cheeks heat up a bit at Harry's mother's words, frowns because Niall can't exactly see anything but he doesn't voice those thoughts out loud. Just thinks about it got a moment, and when he figures that it's not much of a problem, he nods and mutters a quiet 'okay' before he moves on to dry his hands.

Niall's body is a bit stiff when Harry passes him a paper towel, is a bit closed off as he stands before Harry as if he's unsure of what to do with himself. But then Harry grabs his hand cautiously when their hands are dried, pulls him forward and carefully drags him up the stairs where his room is located and seems to visibly relax then.

Harry watches curiously with anxious jitters running up and down his spine as Niall stands in the middle of his bedroom. He looks a little out of place, and Harry wonders if it's because this place is foreign to him. He takes a few steps forward until he's stood before Niall and reaches down to take his hand in his. Niall's entire body shivers from their touch, but overall he seems okay. And with each second that passes he relaxes more and more until Harry's left to wonder if he'd even been nervous in the first place.

"Harry?" Niall asks tentatively as Harry leads them towards his bed to sit down. "What is your room like?"

"Um..." Harry trails off because he's not sure what to say. How do you describe to a blind person what sight looks like? What is Harry supposed to say, how is he supposed to explain it without confusing Niall's brain? He's stuck in a predicament, it feels like. He's unsure.

Niall scrunches up his nose a bit. "It smells clean," he points out. "You must be a clean person."

"Somewhat," Harry chuckles, noticing his hand is still very much wrapped around Niall's, so he carefully slips his fingers away from his touch before anything else can happen. He swears he sees a slight pout forming on Niall's features but then he rids his mind of that thought, figuring that he'd just been imagining things. Oh well. "I mean, all of my dirty clothes are kept away in a hamper so I guess that says something, right?"

Niall makes a quiet humming noise at the back of his throat as he nods a what Harry's saying. He's a good listener, Harry thinks. He likes that about the blond.

"I like to take a lot of pictures," Harry announces, looking around his room. "I've got a bunch of them hanging up on my walls."

"What are they of?"

"Anything, really." Harry shrugs. "My friends, my family, random things, things I like—just whatever."

Niall nibbles at his lower lip shyly while he twiddled with his fingers in his lap. "Can I—can I touch them?"

And Harry's nodding before he can even process the question fully, grabs Niall's hand again so that he can pull him upright and he leads him to where his photography hangs up on his walls. Most of the walls are covered, not a blank space in sight. Harry picks up Niall's hand and stretches his arm out until his fingers graze the surface of the photographs. He doesn't exactly mind the fingerprints Niall will leave behind. Besides, it'd be pretty rude of him to anyway; it's only fair that he lets Niall have this since he can't see what's in front of him for himself.

Niall's fingers brush across the images slowly as if his digits have eyes that process what they feel for Niall. He seems deeply concentrated with his eyebrows furrowed and his lips pressed together tightly. He's still beautiful, Harry mentally tells himself. He doesn't think he'll ever stop now that he's come to the sudden realization.

"I bet they look great," Niall mutters, soft as a feather but Harry hears every word so clearly like he'd shouted them out loud. His heart flutters inside his chest again— _what does that mean?_

"They're alright," he counteracts. His photographs are nothing special in his mind, and when he looks at the side of Niall's face, he knows he's found something much better, something much more worthwhile to look at. Somehow, he feels like he's should've known this all along.


	10. Nine

**Niall**

Niall couldn't wait to see Harry again. He had so much fun, believe it or not, at Harry's house over the weekend and now his body is practically buzzing with excitement as he awaits Harry's arrival. They talked so much about any and everything that day, and Niall was sure that day was the most he'd ever smiled in one sitting before. Especially around Harry. And when it was time for him to go home and his mother was waiting for him at the door, he felt a sense of disappointment wash over him that had him sulking with slumped shoulders and pouty lips the whole ride home.

He's never had a friend before, never had someone like Harry who actually cares enough, it seems, to want to be around him without necessarily having to be. It's all so new, so foreign to Niall still, but each day that passes by, he slowly finds himself growing more and more comfortable around Harry than he ever expected to altogether. It's so nice, Niall thinks, to have someone by his side now; to have someone that'll probably be around for the long run. He's never been able to experience something like this before—of course he's going to cherish it with his entire being. Of course he is.

There's butterflies in his tummy whenever he thinks of Harry, but the only conclusion he can come to about why he feels this way is because he gets nervous around him, nervous excitement that sends jitters circulating throughout his body. But soon enough, he'll realize what those feelings actually mean. For now, though, he's left with innocent assumptions and a rapidly beating heart to chase after.

Niall perks up all of a sudden when he gets the sense that someone is near, and it's kind of pathetic how his smile starts to grow before he even realizes it, without his permission to do so. "Hey, Niall," he hears that all too familiar voice calling out to him and there his heart goes again, stuttering like a scratched up record in the middle of his chest. He'd feel like a lost cause if all of this wasn't new to him, but it is so he lets himself off the hook for it all.

"Hi, Harry," he smiles as a faint blush washes over his features.

There's a strong urge to spit some random words of affection Harry's way out of nowhere, like the fact that he missed him this weekend or something, but he decides not to since he's not sure how that would all play out. Besides, he's too nervous for that anyway. In fact, he doesn't even know what he's doing, doesn't get why he always feels certain ways around Harry and him alone.

There's another voice that cuts through the light atmosphere around them that has Niall's posture slipping without him even realizing it. "Hello, Niall," the person calls out, but the sound is unfamiliar to him. His palms start to sweat a little, so he curls his fingers up tight in reaction to the sudden nerves that overwhelm him.

"Oh, um," Harry mutters awkwardly. "This is—this is Louis, Niall, my best mate. Our other friends aren't at lunch today so he's alone in the cafeteria. I thought we could join him if that's alright."

Niall doesn't know what to say. He's conflicted about what to do or how to react, but he doesn't want to let Harry down. Doesn't wanna be rude to Louis either, but he's just afraid and his nerves are getting the best of him.

There's a wave of hesitation that overcomes Niall, leaves him at a loss for words, unable to get whatever it is that he should say out of his system and out into he open. He doesn't sit well with strangers, doesn't exactly know how to be around them, so he's stuck in a bit of a predicament at the moment. And with each second that passes that nothing is said, he just feels even more anxious than before. It's hard, but thankfully Harry is right here by his side to help him if he needs it. He always feels safe and comfortable around his new friend; maybe that's Niall's favorite thing about Harry, too.

"I'll meet you guys in the cafeteria, alright?" Louis announces as if he senses the problem that now surrounds Niall, but he doesn't leave anyone a chance to reply as he starts heading off as soon as the words stop coming out of his mouth.

His words kind of leave Niall no room to decline his offer now, and maybe he won't this time. Maybe—maybe it won't be so bad after all. He's got Harry with him, and he'll only have to be around one of Harry's friends this time so maybe there's nothing for him to worry about. Maybe he'll be okay in the end as long as Harry's here to guide his way. It sounds like a grand idea too when he thinks of it that way.

He takes in a breath of air.

"I'm sorry," Harry mutters softly, but the sound still makes Niall's ears perk up when he hears it. He's always apologizing for something, it seems. Especially when there's no need for him to be sorry at all. God, Niall really hopes Harry doesn't pity him for his condition. He's not exactly sure how he'd feel about that yet if that was the case. "I shouldn't have sprung this up on you on such sort notice. I'm sorry, I really didn't think this through before."

"It's okay, Harry," Niall ends up blurting out without even evaluating if this is truly what he wants to say in his head beforehand. He doesn't feel weird about it though. It is okay now that he thinks about it. And his nerves will probably hit him again once he's sat in the crowded cafeteria with Harry and his friend Louis, but it doesn't hurt to try.

And that's the thing, really. Harry makes him want to experience things he's never had an ounce of interest to try before. Niall wonders what kind of things he'll want to do the longer he and Harry stay friends. His mind feels like it's on the verge of overheating when he thinks about it.

"Huh?" Harry says like he's in disbelief of the words Niall's just spoken. He really wishes he could see Harry's face right about now. He wonders what he looks like. He bets he's beautiful—he has to be.

"It's okay," Niall repeats with a chuckle. "I think that I'll be okay for today."

"Are you sure?" Harry hesitates. "I mean—Louis's a nice person. He'd never, like—I just don't want you to be uncomfortable. I know you're not used to these kinds of things."

Niall's heart swells at the thought of Harry actually giving a damn about his feelings, unlike anyone ever has before, and he just hopes Harry doesn't notice what's going on inside of Niall's head going by the blush that slowly starts to creep its way up his cheeks. But maybe Niall wouldn't mind if Harry knew. And maybe he hopes that Harry is feeling the same ways he is, too.

***

Niall can feel eyes on him as Harry leads them through the cafeteria, but he tries not to pay any attention to his surroundings at all. Instead, he focuses on the grip his fingers have wrapped tightly around Harry's bicep, the way Harry keeps his body close to his side as if they'll drift away and never find each other again if they even put the slightest amount of distance between them. It's calming in a way, though, knowing Harry's the perfect distraction to have around when he gets this way. It's just him and Harry at the moment; just them and nobody else at all.

He's suddenly so self conscious when they finally sit down at Harry's usual table. He can sense Louis sitting before him, and now that he's here he's unsure of what's next to come. He finds himself facing towards Harry, seeking out his help since he's got no clue what to do with himself.

It's Louis who's the first to break the silence, though. Niall can practically hear his heart beating wildly in his chest, heart full of the very apparent anxiousness he feels within. He wonders if everyone else can hear the sound as well.

"I just want you to know," Louis begins, and his voice is so soft and easygoing that it instantly gets Niall to relax, gets his tense muscles to loosen up and make him feel welcomed. Maybe being around Louis won't be so bad after all. "That a friend of Harry is a friend of mine."

And well, that's all Niall needed, really. It's nice to be reassured about things he's unsure about, about things that make him nervous and uncomfortable. But so far, Louis has made him feel the complete opposite of what he initially thought he'd feel, the opposite of what he'd been afraid of at first. But it's nice to be accepted; first by Harry and now his best friend as well. Niall's never had this before—he's never had people by his side, never had people tell him things that Harry and Louis do. And he's not used to stuff like this, no, but maybe he's willing to be a little more open minded. That's all thanks to Harry, though. He didn't have anyone else to blame.

Louis has a strong personality, Niall realizes the longer he spends around him, that he's not exactly sure how he feels about just yet. And while he's felt somewhat comfortable around Louis so far, he's still only used to Harry and whatever else that comes with him, he's not used to being around other people that aren't Harry or his mum and dad. He can feel himself becoming more and more closed off as he twiddles his nervous fingers underneath the lunch table they're currently occupying. He's even more quiet than he usually is, and Harry catches on to it very quickly.

His hands rest limply in his lap underneath the table they sit under, and when Niall feels Harry place his palm on top of his hand, well he's unsure of how to act next. Louis doesn't seem to notice from where he sits across the table, going off about some story Niall's found himself slipping in and out of paying attention to ever since Louis started to talk. But Niall notices, obviously. His heart leaps in his chest and his stomach flutters like there's a field of butterflies floating aimlessly around inside; his hands start to feel clammy with nerves he never asked for at all, but he just hopes Harry doesn't mind. And maybe he doesn't going by the way his thumb smooths gently across his knuckles. It's like a silent gesture of comfort, something Niall definitely really needs.

He hadn't realized before how much he needed this until now. It's really put him in a new perspective.

"…And that was how it all ended." Louis says, finishing off whatever story he'd been telling this whole time, and Niall feels kind of terrible now that he wasn't paying attention to shy of it. He's been too busy caught up in his own thoughts about Harry to give his mind room to think about anything else.

"That was—" Harry speaks up. There's a hint of humor laced within his syllables that makes Niall's lips twitch as he tries to fight the grin threatening to take over his features. "Uh, that was very funny, Lou. Good job."

"You're horrible, Harold," Louis chimes through a sigh, but his voice tells Niall that he doesn't actually mind. "He's horrible, Niall. Keep an eye out for him."

Niall giggles quietly to himself, surprised that hey, he actually let himself do such a thing, especially around someone he doesn't even know. Especially because of an accidental joke that he'd usually make about himself rather than have anyone else do it for him. That's a first. Harry's fingers that are still firmly wound around his own give him a little squeeze. It feels nicer than Niall would ever actually admit out loud.

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry," Louis hisses once he realizes what he's actually said. Niall can't say he minds, though. He can tell Louis didn't actually mean it so he doesn't let his words affect him in any way. "I didn't mean it like that, I—"

"It's fine," Niall brushes Louis off with a friendly laugh. He wonders what Louis' face might look like right now, Harry's too, but all he gets is an image of a blank face in his mind and that's all. It sucks so he tries to stop thinking about that part. "No harm done, really."

"Okay," Louis ends up muttering but he still sounds so unsure. "If you ever feel uncomfortable, though, please let me know. Like, really, you can kick me in the shin or like, stab me with your cane or whatever you'd like if you think I'm being a dick towards you or anything. Not that I mean to, y'know, just—oh god. That probably sounded rude. I swear I'm not—"

"It's okay," Niall cackles loudly, his grin wide and brighter than ever before. And if he'd been given the ability to see, he'd notice Harry staring at him as if he were sunshine itself in the flesh, like no one's ever looked at him before. "Really, it is."

"So humble," Louis lets out a disbelieving chuckle. "Where'd you find this guy, Harry?"

Niall's already smiling before he even gets the chance to hear Harry's response. "Dunno," Harry jokes with a shrug, playfully bumping his shoulder into the blond's. "Just around."

Niall finds himself beaming for the rest of the lunch period. And yeah, maybe Harry was still to blame.


	11. Ten

**Harry**

Staring at the ceiling high up above his head, he tosses a rubber ball into the air and watches it float for a split second before it falls and he catches it with large hands. He's stuck in one of those trances where he finds himself lost in his own daydreams, where he's so gone in his own mind that he barely notices his surroundings. He's so gone that he doesn't even hear the noises around him, like there's a sound barrier planted in his own ears and noise is completely unable to get through.

Louis huffs where he lays upside down off of the side of Harry's bed when he notices his curly headed best friend has been ignoring everything he's been saying for the last ten minutes or so. Harry's not exactly at fault, though. He's got a reason for going all zombie on Louis, but it's a reason he's trying not to admit to himself in his own mind. It's just—all he can see are splotches of blond hair no matter where he looks, all he can feel is the smoothness of milky skin instead of whatever surface his fingertips may touch in that given moment. He hears quiet mumbles and bright, bubbly laughter that can only belong to one person and one person only.

It's weird and he's not exactly ready to acknowledge the reason why he can't stop thinking this way yet. It's like, he knows exactly what it means (or what it could mean, really), but at the same time he kind of refuses to believe it. Why—he's not exactly sure yet. These kind of thoughts haven't occurred to him in such a long time that it almost feels foreign to him in a way. He's all bits and pieces of confusion, mixed together into one big ball of hopeless uncertainty. It's a jungle up there in his head, it is.

"You like him, don't you?" Louis says as a matter of fact, totally out of the blue. He doesn't even bother looking Harry's way either, and it's just like he's known all along.

Harry winces a bit as he's suddenly tipped from his daydreams like the words he's just heard are a forceful slap in the face. And if he would've been eating something right about now he's sure he would've started choking, probably would've nearly died from what Louis's just told him. "W-what?" He splutters, slapping his hand across his chest to try and gain some composure.

(It doesn't work.)

(Bummer.)

"Niall," Louis is still looking away like the conversation holds no importance whatsoever. But, like, it does. It's kind of a big deal to Harry because this is the first time something like this has ever crossed his mind, and now that it has it doesn't seem like it's going to leave anytime soon. His heart jumps a bit in his chest— _what does it mean?_ He tends to wonder that a lot nowadays. Especially ever since he's gotten the pleasure of meeting Niall. Dammit. "You fancy Niall. It's so obvious."

"S'not," Harry frowns like a child. It isn't, right? He doesn't—he doesn't fancy Niall... right? Oh gosh. "I— no I don't."

Louis snorts. "You sound unsure, kid. Who're you trying to convince here, huh?"

Harry's lips protrude to a small pout, and now he's uncertain of what to say next. Sure, of course, Niall's cool. He's really cool. He's sort of amazing, too, and he's a delight to be around, makes Harry feel a bit hazy sometimes. (Read: a lot of the time). He's beautiful and he's so nice and Harry loves being around him, but that doesn't mean Harry fancies him. 'Cause he doesn't. He doesn't like Niall. Well, not in that way, no. Louis doesn't know what he's talking about.

Harry shakes his head, trying to get rid of those mystified thoughts that have taken over and gained control of his entire mind. He does not have feelings for Niall. No, no he doesn't at all.

Except maybe he kind of does. It's new, but he's definitely got some feelings for Niall aimlessly floating around inside of him somewhere. Maybe even a lot of them, too.

" _Fuck_ ," Harry hisses underneath his breath, and the ball he's been tossing into the air out of complete boredom falls directly onto his face. He groans dramatically, but he's got a feeling it's not from the slight pain he's just felt. He's just realized a lot, and well, that's all thanks to Louis for bringing it to his attention.

"Yeah," Louis chimes in calmly. He rubs a hand against Harry's back almost as if he's trying to let him know that he completely understands exactly what Harry's going through. But... does he, though? Does he really? "Yeah, I know."

And, well, Harry's fucked. He's definitely royally fucked.

***

Harry can't even look at Niall without thinking about his conversation with Louis from the other day. Because every time he does it feels like his heart is going to burst into sudden flames of adoration, feels like his stomach is twisting inside out and right side in whenever the blond gives him a little smile. And now that he thinks about it, these feelings have always been around. They were never this strong, just a little pinch of a pathetically stupid growing attachment here and there, and he's sure they'll only develop even more the longer this whole friendship between them goes on.

It's been a few months of their camaraderie so far, but that doesn't stop Harry. He can't help it, though. It's hard not to fall for someone like Niall. It's so damn hard not to. And he doesn't care that Niall is disabled, doesn't care that he'll never be able to see what he looks like I'm his lifetime because to Harry, Niall's mire than that. To Harry, Niall's not that one blind kid that keeps to himself and doesn't really let others in. He's not his disability—he's just Niall. Just Niall with the pretty smile, just Niall with the lovely laugh and an aura that draws Harry in without even meaning to really. And—wow. Now that Harry thinks about it like that, he realizes how hard he's falling.

Free falling with no parachute to help him land safely.

He's scared, he's unsure of what'll come out of this, but it's not like he can help it at all. And he doesn't even want to think about the possibility of Niall thinking of him the way he does Niall. But that's okay, Harry tells himself. That's okay because he'll never let Niall know of his developing feelings for him. Maybe this will be for the best.

Niall seems to be in a really great mood today for some reason as they sit outside at their usual table during lunchtime, just them two. They hadn't bothered spending the period in the cafeteria again since Niall still isn't comfortable with the idea of being around more people than he's used to yet. Slow, Niall likes to take things slow and Harry won't hesitate to give him as much time as he may need.

Gosh, maybe he really does fancy Niall more than Louis assumed. He's not sure if that's a good thing or not yet.

There's a simple smile spread across Niall's small lips that has Harry wondering what's gotten him so happy lately. He doesn't mind it, though; happiness is s good look on him. A very good look. It warms Harry's body seeing Niall this way, makes him feel like he should be happy as well, and he is. He's happy because Niall is happy, and—damn. That says a lot. Is says more that Harry may realize or understand.

"Is your name really Harold?" Niall quizzes Harry all of a sudden, and the question makes Harry let out a loud snort from the back of his throat.

"Huh?" He giggles. "Where'd that come from?"

"Your friend Louis, he called you Harold."

"Oh," Harry nods, sits up straighter and leans his body closer to Niall without even realizing he's doing so. "Yeah, no, Louis just likes to call me that sometimes just to mess with my head. My name's not Harold, 'm just Harry."

"Just Harry," Niall repeats like he enjoys the way the words sit on his tongue. Harry's never realized how much he liked hearing Niall saying his name until now. _Oh god_. "Can I call you Harold, too?"

 _You can call me whatever you'd like_ , Harry almost says, but that seems way too inappropriate so he keeps it to himself. "Uh, yeah," he tries to gulp down the lump growing in his throat. "Yeah, sure. I don't mind."

"Okay, Harold," Niall grins so wide that the sight is almost blinding to his eyes.

"Well now I don't have anything to call you," Harry pouts.

"How 'bout my best friend?" Niall suggests hopefully, full of life. Harry feels that burning sensation rising in his chest once again.

"Is that... is that what I am to you, then?"

The suspense that fulfills the moment Harry awaits for Niall's answer is killing him even if not a ton of time has passed by.

"I think so," Niall shrugs, and his cheeks get all pink and rosy and Harry can see him shying away suddenly with the turn of their conversation. But Harry doesn't think there's a reason for Niall to be nervous because maybe he kind of feels the same way. "I feel like you are."

Harry can't help it when he scoots over so that he and Niall are sat side by side now, their thighs just barely grazing one another's while their knees knock together in the middle. He can't help it when he raises his hand and sets it on top of Niall's very own, and well. This is the second time Harry's held Niall's hand in so little time, but he doesn't think it'll be the last either. Oh, it won't be at all.

"I think I like the sound of that," Harry speaks lowly like his sentences are made solely for Niall and him alone. And Niall smiles that little private smile of his, and harry thinks that this could be the start. This could be the start of something more. He'll just have to wait and see.


	12. Eleven

**Niall**

Weekends always felt too long for Niall. He didn't really do much except sit around at home with his parents like a wild animal taken from its natural habitat and held captive, locked up against its own will in a zoo. There wasn't much he could do anyway seeing as he didn't have many friends, but it still bothered him knowing how protective his mum and dad always were over him. They never really ask him what it is that he wants either; they don't ask him how he feels, what he'd like to do, what he wouldn't like to do. He loves his parents, though, don't get him wrong. They're everything to him and more, but just because you love someone, doesn't mean you have to like them all the time, right?

Weekends feel like they last just as long as the weekdays do, and every time Niall heads home after school every Friday afternoon, he can't help but feel a sense of sadness wash over him. Because being away from school for two days out of the week just means there's two extra days he has to endure without seeing his best friend Harry, and really, it really sucks. It's a loneliness he's never experienced before, something he never wants to feel again either.

He—well. He misses Harry if he's being completely honest with himself. It's odd because he's never missed anyone before, but now it's a feeling he's growing quite used to now. It's something that's taking over his mind and his body and his senses as well as his heart slowly, gradually, until eventually it'll be all he feels unless he's around Harry. Wow. Niall never thought he could ever get like this—he never thought he'd ever be capable of such emotions until now. It's a lot to process, but—but it's there. It's very prominent, too.

Sitting outside on the porch in his backyard, Niall sits in silence, letting the natural serenity of the world around him take over his senses and allow him to relax a bit. It's drizzling out, Niall can feel the light splatters of rain that bounce off of the patio beneath his feet hit his skin as they do so. It's a good thing that there's an awning up above to keep him sheltered from weather like this.

Niall likes times like this the best, when it's just him and the sounds of the birds chirping as they soar through the wide open skies or the trees calmly rustling in the wind or the slight breeze that passes by and kisses his skin. It's nice being in his own little world with little to no distractions, but somehow he can't help but wish that Harry were here to share moments like this with him.

God, who ever knew Niall could be in this deep? It's still something he's not been able to understand or come to terms with himself. He still has no clue what it means.

Isn't it always like this, though? Doesn't everyone feel this way about their friends, too, or is Niall just a bit strange? He furrows his eyebrows deeply into the center of his forehead—why is life so confusing for him? Why is it so hard for him to understand?

The sound of the door sliding open from behind him catches Niall's attention, and although he can't see, he still turns and faces the direction of the noise, eyebrows raised out of pure curiosity.

"Hey, Ni," his mum coos softly and there's only a second that passes before she takes the seat next to him on the swing chair where he's perched. "You've been out here for a while, are you alright?"

"Mhm," Niall nods to himself. "I'm fine, just thinking."

"Ah," she says in a time full of complete wonder. "Anything in particular?"

Should he tell his mother that he's only been thinking about Harry nonstop ever since the pair became friends? It's a big risk, so in the end he decides that maybe he probably shouldn't. He's already strange enough as it is, he wouldn't want to be seen as that way any more. Especially not his own mother.

Niall shrugs and that's that. "Not really," he chooses to say. He hopes his body language doesn't give anything away.

"Okay," his mother hums, but something in her tone tells Niall that she doesn't exactly believe him. Good thing she drops the conversation, though, and says nothing more about it. "Well, I just came out here to tell you something."

"What is it?" Niall asks, totally engaged now in whatever it is she's about to say. Her voice is bright and lovely, so Niall assumes it must be important.

Niall can feel his mother smiling and that alone triggers his own smile, too. It's a small one, though. Nothing too noticeable or anything. "I just received a call from Anne. It seems as though your friend Harry would like for you to come over again."

Has the world just suddenly stopped rotating or has Niall lost all the ability to move, breathe, think, anything? It feels like a dream; how ironic is it that he had been thinking of Harry all day and now it seems as if Harry had been thinking of him as well. There's a pathetic grin spreading across his face before he even realizes it, and there's sparks of giddiness flying through his heart that make him feel so alive. He's never felt like this before.

"Seriously?" He asks with raised eyebrows, because for some reason he feels like his mum is playing a practical joke on him. It feels too good to be true.

"Yes, Ni," she lets out a short laugh, placing her hand on her son's shoulders and gently rubbing her thumb against the bone. "I'm very serious."

"Can I?" He questions just to make sure. He knows how protective his parents can be so it's no surprise that he's still unsure about certain things. "Please?"

"Of course," she gives his shoulder a loving squeeze. "Of course you can but Harry's busy today so he asked if you'd like to come over tomorrow. S'that okay?"

And, well, that's kind of a bummer because he's kind of been looking forward to coming over now since his new best friend has constantly been on his mind, but he supposed it'll have to be okay. There's not much he can do about it now, and as long as he gets the chance to be around Harry again then he doesn't really care. He doesn't mind at all.

Niall nods eagerly, trying to make sure he gets the point across to his mum. He thinks she gets it by now. There's no way she couldn't. "Okay," he speaks quietly, but inside there's a party raging that just won't stop. It feels good. "Yeah, okay. Thanks, ma."

"No problem," she kisses his cheek. There's absolutely no problem at all.

***

Niall doesn't ever think he'll get tired of the way Harry's fingers feel when they're latched onto his own. Because Harry's palms are warm and smooth to the touch and they make Niall's heart beat a little bit faster whenever they touch. He kind of feels like Harry has a thing for this now, the whole holding his hand thing since he seems to be doing it a lot lately. Niall doesn't mind, though. Harry's his best friend now, the only one he's ever had, he wouldn't mind anything when it comes to Harry, honestly.

Harry drags Niall up the staircase that leads to his bedroom hastily but with care all at the same time. Niall can practically feel the excitement bouncing from Harry's body like heat waves on a particularly hot summer afternoon. Could it possibly be that Harry's just as anxious to have Niall near him as he is? God, he really hopes so. Niall just hopes he's not the only one.

Niall feels empty all of a sudden when Harry untangles their fingers the minute they step foot inside of his room. It still smells clean just like it did the first time he came around, but Niall likes the smell. He wonders if Harry uses candles too like he does, and if he doesn't, Niall wonders if he could possibly get him into using them. He thinks that would be nice.

Niall uses his cane to help him feel around the area, walking forward until his knees gently collide with the side of Harry's bed so that he can take a seat. His fingers spread out across the sheets on top to get a feel of what they're like since he can't exactly see it. It's soft, he notices, feels pretty, too but he'll never know that for sure. Bummer.

The bed dips down beside him, indicating that Harry's taken a seat close to where Niall sits. Although their thighs aren't touching and their knees aren't knocking, Niall can still feel Harry close by, almost as if they are. It feels good being around Harry again, feels like he's stuck in the middle of a dream.

"Um," Harry mutters suddenly, grabbing Niall's full attention. The quiet boy faces the direction of Harry's voice and waits for him to continue with whatever it is he has to say. "I, uh, I've really missed you," Harry admits like he's genuinely afraid of the words coming out of his mouth. His voice is faint, sounds a little insecure to Niall's ears, but they're still firm and Niall hears every single word. He hears it all.

"What?" Niall gasps. He's never had anyone miss him before. It sets a mini riot off in his heart. Oh gosh.

"I know that's probably really weird for me to say, but I, um, I did. I—I couldn't stop thinking about you, and—and I missed you."

"Oh." Is all Niall can say. What's he supposed to say? Especially now that his face feels like it's literally on fire and his stomach is tumbling around and around and his palms feel way too slick with perspiration. What's he supposed to do? Should he... should he day it back?

Because maybe he's missed Harry, too. In fact, there is no maybe. He definitely missed his best friend. Of course he did, he couldn't get Harry off of his mind either, it's just. This isn't what Niall's used to, and now he's got no clue of how to react without embarrassing the hell out of himself. He's nervous beyond his words right now, he really is.

"Sorry, oh wow, that's—oh god. I probably shouldn't have said that, right. 'M really sorry, Niall."

Niall surprised Harry by laughing out loud. He throws his head back and he cackles like no tomorrow, and the way he smiles reminds Harry of why he'd missed him so much in the first place. It's hard not to. "You apologize way too much, Harry. It's really funny."

"You think I'm funny?" Harry starts to smile himself now. He can't help it—he thinks Niall may be contagious.

"Don't flatter yourself."

"Who knew you could be so bold, Niall?"

Niall just shrugs, unsure of what to say next. He's not all that bold, though, but around Harry he feels like he is. He feels a lot of things around him, though. "I wish I knew what you looked like," Niall sighs out, shoulders slumping at the thought of never knowing how someone he's grown close to over these past few months looks.

"Trust me, I'm nothing special," Harry chooses to say, but Niall bets that's a lie. It has to be; someone like Harry must be something to look at, right? Niall finds it hard to believe that he's not.

"Don't say that," Niall friend to himself. He doesn't like the way it makes him feel inside when he hears Harry putting himself down like he is now. "Everyone's a little special in some way."

"Yeah," Harry agrees, and now would be the perfect time for Niall to witness the way it is that Harry looks at him like he's the only person left in this world. It kind of hurts that he'll never be able to know. "They are."

Niall doesn't even think twice about it when he decides to reach over towards Harry, his hands feeling around until his fingers land upon the curly headed boy's face.

"What are you doing?" Harry questions, completely taken aback. Shockingly, he likes the way Niall's fingers feel prodding the slopes of his features.

"Sorry, sorry," Niall quickly pulls his hands away, tucking them underneath his thighs. "I just—I just wanted to see what your face feels like since I can't physically see you."

Harry is quiet for a moment and the entire time Niall's stomach twists in suspense, wondering just how Harry may react to all of this. He wouldn't blame Harry if he felt uncomfortable in anyway, even if he was annoyed with Niall for pulling a stunt like that. But eventually Niall's thoughts are dismissed when Harry pulls his hands from underneath his legs and sets them upon his face again until Niall's cupping Harry's cheeks. Niall can feel the heat rising to the surface of Harry's skin but he doesn't mind. There's a blush taking over Niall's features, too, so they're quite even now he supposes.

Niall's fingers roam around Harry's face just like he's trying to remember every aspect there is to know with only the tips of his fingers. His thumbs trace across Harry's eyebrows, the slope of his nose, slowly gliding along his soft pouty lips. Pretty soon, without realizing his own actions, Niall's fingers find themselves carding through Harry's curly tendrils, getting lost in the silkiness of his waves. It's sift to the touch, a feeling Niall definitely enjoys, and the more he explores Harry, the deeper everything feels. Niall feels like they're closer in a way than they've ever been before, and it feels Mir. It feels nice to finally have somebody by his side, it's nice to finally be able to have a friend to call his very own.

Niall is awfully oblivious to the way that Harry starts gradually to lean in closer to his body. Soon enough, though, as Harry's heart is racing just under a rate of a million miles per second, he carefully knocks their noses together, not wanting to scare Niall off in anyway. He's got absolutely no clue what he's doing and neither does Niall going by the way his heart thumps loudly in his chest. His fingers stop themselves from scraping against Harry's scalp, but he's still got a semi tight grip on his locks and something tells Harry that maybe he doesn't want to let go yet. He hopes he doesn't, God, he really hopes he'll stay right here forever.

They stay pressed against one another for a moment, until Harry knocks their foreheads together softly and they're breathing each other's air. Niall's breaths leave his lips hastily, loud and unsteady, but he's afraid to move. It's like he's paralyzed and it's physically impossible to do anything else but sit there and wait for the feeling to pass. They're so close, so, _so_ close, and it's something Niall's definitely never experienced before in his entire life. It's very new and it's actually pretty terrifying, but knowing that it's all Harry makes him feel alright. Well, as alright as he can get.

He's still confused as to what this all means, though. Harry's his best friend, but surely best friends don't really treat each other this way. And Niall is Harry's best friend, too, but what if Harry thinks about him as something more? _Oh god, oh god, oh god_.

Niall pulls away.

" _Fuck_ ," Harry hisses frantically, fully pulling himself away from Niall's touch. "I'm sorry, Ni, I didn't mean to—I shouldn't have done that, I'm so sorry."

Niall wonders if the apologies will ever end. Maybe not. Maybe he doesn't exactly mind. Maybe there's absolutely no reason for Harry to be so sorry all the time, either. Especially not now when there's no one to blame and nothing to be blamed for. Niall's just—he's confused more than he's ever been in his entire life and now he's at a loss of what to do, what to think, how to act.

Or maybe he's only this bent over everything because he likes it. Maybe it's so scary to him and baffling because it's all brand new to his mind and he doesn't want any of it to change.

Maybe, whatever way Harry's feeling about him, he feels just as much as the same way, too.

"Harry?" Niall mutters like his name is a question and he needs to know the answers right now. His fingers are shaking and his stomach feels tight, but inside he knows there's something there. Especially deep down in his heart, he knows there's a place for Harry to stay.

"Yes?" Harry mumbles back just as shy. It makes Niall smile knowing that they're both somewhat on the same page.

"I missed you, too," Niall finally says back. And it's like the stars have aligned and the world has stopped spinning and their hearts have been set on fire. Thing is, though, Niall doesn't mind if his heart goes up in flames. As long as Harry is the one throwing the match, he wouldn't have it any other way.


	13. Twelve

**Harry**

Monday morning rolls back around quicker than expected, and Harry finds himself arriving to school earlier than he typically would. He has a reason for that, though, and that reason just so happens to make his heart feel like it's on overdrive just from simply hearing that certain five letter name roaming around in his mind like it owns the place. The earlier he arrives to school, the more time he gets to spend with Niall, just the two of them, before they are unfortunately forced to part ways for the time being all the way up until lunchtime comes and the two can be reunited once and for all.

It should be considered pathetic how much time Harry spends thinking about fluffy blond hair and soft fingertips, but Harry doesn't care either way. If he is considered pathetic just because of that, then so be it, and if he isn't, well it wouldn't matter to him anyway. He doesn't care how he looks or how he sounds when it comes to Niall, because to Harry, Niall's all that really matters.

Wow.

Now that he thinks of it, it's simple really. Harry doesn't see how it could possibly be difficult to understand at this point. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, there's a voice that speaks to him. It tells him what he really feels deep down inside, states the obvious even though he should've realized all along. It's says—and it's a soft voice but it's strong and assertive and it lets him know that everything he's been contemplating that dances around the topic of a certain blond boy are things that should no longer be contemplations anymore, but rather actual truths that he can no longer question or deny—what's been awfully apparent this whole time.

He is—and he's willing to admit this with absolutely no hesitation whatsoever now that he's completely certain—utterly and irrevocably smitten with Niall Horan.

There's only one way to go from here, and it'd be impossible to turn back now that he knows it. He wouldn't want to anyway. The thought of Niall not being a presence in his life kind of hurts to think about. And now that he's gotten to know him, he can't imagine being without him by his side. Oh, how grateful he is for accidentally running into the reserved lad just a few months ago. Who would've thought he'd end up like this—all hung up on and pining over a guy like Niall. But there's no one else he'd rather be hung up over at all; Niall is it for him, and really, it's one of the best feelings ever. Not knowing if he'd ever feel the same, well, that's a different story Harry's not ready to hear the ending of yet.

Harry easily spots Niall sitting alone at the same table the two occupy at lunch, and it's sad how fast his lips turn upwards once his eyes catch sight of blond. He wastes no time making his way over, jitters jumping around in his belly like they're incapable of stopping. It's impossible for him not to feel this way now when it comes to Niall. He just can't help it.

He doesn't let his presence be known, but instead carefully creeps up to Niall, being as silent as possible, and once he's close enough, he places his hands on either side of Niall's shoulders, making him jump a bit in his seat as a reaction.

"Boo!" Harry exclaims around a bubbly laugh, watching as Niall's face goes from normal to a bright, bright red. He wishes Niall didn't look so cute this way, but of course he does. Harry thinks he'd always be cute no matter what the situation was.

Niall gasps loudly, his chest rising and falling at a quick pace. Harry takes in the way a pout begins to settle upon his lips and it kind of starts to make him feel bad. "You can't scare me like that, Harry!" Niall protests suddenly, his eyebrows pulling together until they settle into a small frown.

"Oh," Harry mutters quietly as his shoulders slump. He didn't mean to upset Niall, just wanted to have a bit of a laugh. If he would've known Niall would take it the wrong way, he wouldn't have shocked him in the first place. He's not a fan of the expression that takes over Niall's face, either. It makes him feel even worse. "Sorry, Ni. I didn't mean to actually scare you at all, I was just—"

Harry's apology is cut short by a bright and boisterous laugh that sounds like how Harry pictures sunshine would if it had a voice, coming from Niall's mouth. He frowns, not completely understanding what exactly is so funny all of a sudden, but the sound of Niall's laughter pushes all of his questions aside, makes him want to smile along with him because it feels like the right thing to do.

"Am I missing something?" Harry questions, unable to help the wide grin that's spreading across his face. This is exactly what Niall does to him.

"I was just kidding, Harry," Niall says while a smirk starts to grow on his lips. Who knew he could be so cheeky?

"You're an ass, you know that, right?" But of course he isn't. He's the furthest thing from it.

Niall just shrugs smugly, making Harry shake his head.

"Hi," Harry mutters softly once the moment has somewhat dwindled down, his green eyes raking over the smoothness of Niall's face, wanting to just reach out and touch him but ultimately deciding against it. He's already embarrassed himself enough when Niall was over at his place this weekend, and he doesn't exactly plan on embarrassing himself any more. And speaking of that day, Harry wonders if Niall recalls any of it at all. Well, of course he does obviously, it just happened yesterday, but he just hopes he's chosen to forget all about it. He also wonders if it happened to cross Niall's mind when they said their goodbyes that day and he'd gone home.

"Hi," Niall greets back, smiling shyly and making Harry feel all warm and fuzzy like he always seems to feel around Niall. It's inevitable by now. "You're very early today."

Harry quirks an eyebrow despite Niall not being able to see it. "Is that a bad thing?"

"No, no, it's not," Niall hums. "I like having you around."

"Good because I like being around you."

Harry wonders if the way Niall's face flushes at his words means something, and if so, what does it mean?

"So I haven't scared you away yet?"

"Nope," Harry grins until his cheeks start to hurt. He doesn't mind the feeling, though, if it's because of Niall. "Not yet. Check back with me in a few weeks and maybe I might've changed my mind by then."

"I thought I was supposed to be the ass here."

"You can't keep everything to yourself, Ni. Didn't anyone ever teach you that sharing is caring?"

Harry swears, as long as he lives, he'll never get tired of the sound of Niall's laughter. He'll never get tired of the fact that he can make Niall laugh, either. If this isn't one of the greatest feelings ever, he's not sure what would be.

There's a moment that passes by where the two don't say anything. It's quiet, nothing but the sound of the breeze flowing by them, but it's nice. Harry studies Niall's face, almost as if he's trying to memorize every aspect he can; every dip, every curve, every freckle that dots his rosy cheeks. He's still beautiful, Harry keeps in mind, and he doesn't think he'll ever think otherwise. Beautiful face, beautiful soul, beautiful Niall. It kind of has a ring to it.

Harry feels that sudden urge to reach out and touch him again, but he's not sure if that would be okay. His fingers itch to do something, but they manage to state right there in their place.

"It's cold," Harry randomly blurts out just to distract himself from his very tempted inner thoughts. It works because the way Niall looks when he smiles has him forgetting every thought he ever had up until this very moment. Niall has that kind of impact on him.

"I like the cold," Niall shrugs, and if he likes it then maybe Harry will try to enjoy it more, too. "Reminds me that I can still feel. Is that weird?"

"No," Harry doesn't hesitate to say. He doesn't wait a single beat. No, it's not weird at all. Actually, it makes every bit of sense for Niall to feel this way. It's perfectly understandable. "I don't think it's weird. It's you—you're not weird."

"Well that's good to know."

"Mhm," Harry hums to himself, but just as he's about to say something else, he feels a loud vibration coming from his pocket and sending a weird jolt down his leg that makes his whole body shiver.

"What was that?" Niall perks up a bit, a genuine look of curiosity taking over his features.

"Oh nothing," Harry dismisses before reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. "I just got a text."

Niall nods slowly, seeming not to really care about Harry's message at all. Instead, he fiddles with his fingers in his lap, quiet and relaxed, while Harry checks the notification that pops up on his screen.

It's a text from Louis with a picture attached and as soon as Harry gets the message open, he can't help the cute laugh that escapes from his scarlet lips. "Oh god," he shakes his head, taking in the picture Louis sent of him and Niall sitting at their usual table, deep in conversation like they're stuck in their own little world. He sent it with the caption 'just two boys in love' with a stupid emoji next to it. God, Louis is something else. Always has been, too.

'Look up,' another text from Louis says, and as soon as Harry reads it, he twists his body around until he's facing towards the doors that lead to their school, noticing Louis standing there with the stupidest grin on his face while he waves Harry's way like the complete maniac he is. Louis makes a deformed heart shape with his hands that has Harry laughing even more than he already is. Again, he shakes his head at his idiot of a best friend before giving him the finger (out of love, of course) and turning back around.

"What's so funny?" Niall asks him. The butterflies in the center of Harry's stomach just won't stop.

"Oh, nothing," Harry sings like it's a song, smiling down at the blond like there's actual sunshine beaming from his pores, like he's drenched in liquid gold and it's just impossible for him to turn away. "Nothing at all."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so so sooooo sorry it's taken me so long to update. writers block can be a complete pain in the ass sometimes :( this isn't my best chapter, but I hope that you all still enjoyed. thanks so much for reading, I really appreciate it!!


	14. Thirteen

**Niall**

Niall isn't exactly sure how he feels about having Harry over at his house for the first time. On one hand, he's so excited because he's never really had a friend over before, so this is something completely new to him. But then again, pretty much everything with Harry is quite exciting simply _because_ it's always new to him, Niall finds. On the other hand, though, he's terribly nervous. What for? He cans really explain it, but he just knows he is. He knows it's there.

Maybe he's scared of what Harry will think of him. Maybe he's afraid that Harry won't like him as much now that he's finally getting to learn more about him. But Niall doesn't think he has anything to worry about with that one; surely if Harry didn't like him, he wouldn't spend basically all of his time with him and only him. That puts a bit of hope in Niall's heart, though. He still can't seem to understand why Harry even bothers with him to begin with, but he would never ask for anything less. He'd be a mad man to ever do that.

Niall doesn't really need assistance going up and down his own case of stairs, the steps he walks up and down by himself every single day, but then what else excuse could he use for a chance to be near Harry like this? So close and personal, with his hand wrapped around Harry's bicep and his fingers gripping onto him like he never wants to let him go. He wouldn't mind not having to, though. He can't even remember a time when he didn't think of Harry in this way anymore. It's almost as if he's always felt this way, right from the start.

As soon as they stop in front of Niall's door, he uses the hand that's not latched onto Harry's arm to feel around in front of him until his fingers meet the coolness of the metal doorknob and he opens his door to let them both inside. As soon as Niall steps in, there's a wave of a vanilla, coconut scent that hits his nostrils, causing him to take in a deep breath just to bask in the smell.

"It smells so good in here," Harry chimes like his words are apart of a melody in a song. Niall finds himself smiling privately to himself, almost as if he's proud just for making Harry feel this way. "What is it?"

"Candles," Niall hums softly. "Took a lot of begging and convincing for my mum to let me have them, but I think it was all worth it."

"How come?"

"She thinks I'm going to accidentally knock them over when they're lit one day and set myself on fire," Niall says, and if Harry could see his eyes right about now, they'd probably be rolling to the back of his head. "I don't think that's physically possible, though. 'M pretty sure it would require a lot more fire than that."

Harry snorts out a laugh, bright and bubbly to Niall's ears, and the sound makes Niall want to laugh, too. So he does because he just can't help it, really. Especially not around Harry, he can't. "That's a little dramatic, wouldn't you say?"

"Tell that to my mum," Niall huffs before making his way over to his bed to sit down. He sets the cane he uses for guidance everyday off to the side before folding his hands together and letting them rest against his lap.

He's not sure why he feels so tense all of a sudden, but he supposes it's because he's around Harry. This always happens, even more so when they're fully alone, without anyone to surround them like it is when they're at school. He prefers it this way, though. Likes it better when they're just alone.

"Do you think your parents will ever, like, I don't know, become less strict with you one day?"

Niall thinks about it for a moment, finds it awfully hard to concentrate when he feels the bed dip beside him and Harry's legs somewhat pressed up against his. He's not sure why he's chosen to sit so close to him (not that he minds exactly), seeing as there's a whole entire bed with a lot more space around them to choose from and all. But he doesn't mention anything, keeps his mouth shut and revels in the feeling of Harry's thigh grazing his own. Niall makes sure to focus on breathing through his nose now.

"I don't know," Niall shrugs, because he's truthfully not sure at all. He hopes his parents can understand him better someday, hopes that they'll learn to become more comfortable with him and worry less, but as of right now, that's all that Niall feels as though he can do: hope. "Maybe. Maybe not. I hope so, though."

"When I was twelve, my mum didn't let me swim past the four feet in pools for a whole year because I tripped and fell into the water one day and practically almost drowned. I wasn't a very good swimmer then. She thought I was going to die."

"Really?" Niall tries not to laugh, he really does, but in the end he just can't help it. The giggles pour out so easily without even having to think about it, and once Niall starts, he can't seem to stop. He laughs so hard that his stomach starts to clench up and even then he can't seem to stop himself. "That's amazing," he breathes out in between laughs.

And if Niall was capable of seeing, he'd notice the fond smile growing on Harry's ruby lips, the look he sends the blond boy's way like he's just the greatest thing to ever walk the planet. It's a bummer that he can't, though. If Harry had one wish in this lifetime, it'd be for Niall to be able to see the way he looks at him just one time. That's all he really needed.

"You think that's funny?" Harry challenges with a devious smirk dancing playfully on his lips. He leans in closer to Niall's side, as gentle and as unnoticeable as he possibly can, and before Niall can realize what's going on, Harry manages to attack Niall's sides with the tips of his fingers until he's squirming underneath his touch and his laughs come out even harder than before.

Harry loves the way Niall looks when he smiles, thinks it's a great look on him and wouldn't mind seeing him like this forever if he could. He doesn't think he'd mind one bit.

"Harry!" Niall squeals while still attempting to free himself from Harry's hold. "What are you—what are you doing!"

"Tickling you," Harry grins even wider as his fingers stroke across Niall's slim torso. "What else?"

As badly as he wants Harry to stop just so that he can finally breathe properly, he's also enjoying what's going on right now. He's never been so close to Harry in such a way before, and if this is what it takes for that to happen, then so be it. Maybe Harry's tickles aren't so bad after all.

Somewhere in the midst of laughing so hard until his stomach hurts and tears starting to prickle at the corners of his eyes and wriggling around on top of his bed with Harry's fingers pushing themselves into his sides, somehow the glasses perched against the bridge of Niall's nose slip off until they're no longer glued to his face and falling off to the side. As soon as Niall notices, he figures that Harry does too going by the way the motion of his fingers stop all together and he stills in the spot that he sits like he's been frozen in time.

Niall quickly scrambles to grab his dark glasses, and as soon as he does Harry chooses to speak up again. "Oh," he kind of gasps out, "I'm sorry, Ni, I didn't mean for that to happen."

Niall isn't sure why he stops himself from putting his frames back on. Normally, if it were anyone else witnessing him like this for the first time, he would've done so without any hesitation. But something about this moment, something about being here with Harry, feels different. Something deep down inside refuses to let him cover himself back up again, to hide away like he's so used to doing.

Harry must notice Niall's inner turmoil, for he reaches forward with slow, cautious hands until he places his palms against Niall's very own until they're resting on top. Niall's breath shudders as soon as Harry finds himself taking Niall's glasses and sliding them from between his slim fingers.

Niall refuses to pick his head up, but instead insists on keeping it bowed, afraid to let Harry see him in such a vulnerable way. Because right now, he kind of is. He feels so defenseless without the protection of his glasses. He's too open this way, too fragile and bare, and it's not something he's used to. He's used to hiding, used to having that barrier there to protect him, and without it he feels like nothing. He feels useless.

"Niall," Harry breathes out, so soft and airy that it's almost impossible to hear him, but Niall's heard every word. He doesn't change his position, though. Suddenly feels like his heart is going to thump right out of his chest.

He's scared, but with Harry there he can start to feel safe.

A shiver runs up and down his spine the minute he feels Harry's smooth hand, cool to the touch, cupping the underside of his jaw. Maybe he's paralyzed now all of a sudden, he can't be too sure. But something he can be sure of is the rapid beating of his heart, the butterflies that float aimlessly around in the pit of his stomach and just won't seem to stop. He holds in a deep breath, wonders how long it'll take for him to stay like this until he passes out.

"It's okay," Harry continues, voice as light as a feather drifting through a slight wind. And Harry's encouraging words are all Niall needs, really. He doesn't even have to say anything else. Niall doesn't give Harry another chance to speak before he slowly lifts his head up, taking all the time he needs. He can do this, he can.

His eyes don't fully open when he finally decides to open them, but that's only because he's so used to not using them that halfway open is as far as they'll go without it becoming too uncomfortable for him. But it doesn't matter much. This is the most courageous Niall has been in a long time, and really, it's all thanks to Harry. Without him, Niall doesn't think he'd ever have the guts to do something like this. And to him, this is everything. He's gradually learning another side of himself; little by little, he's getting there.

Niall's eyes are impossibly blue, a milky grayish, clear film layering on top, but they're still so beautiful in Harry's eyes. In fact, he's kind of taken aback when he sees them. Kind of stunned that these were the eyes Niall has been hiding away from the world this entire time. And it's no different for Harry at all, Niall is no different from the Niall he knew yesterday compared to today, and he won't be any different to him tomorrow either. He'll always just be Niall to Harry—not the boy who's blind, not the boy who keeps to himself, just Niall. Always.

Niall begins to panic a little once he realizes how quiet Harry's been. The anxiety within him starts to build up faster than he can keep up with, and that's all it takes for him to reach out for his glasses again, to want to shield himself away from everything like he's so used to doing. But he doesn't know it any other way, this is what he's familiar with. It's the only thing he feels that he knows how to do right.

"Wait, Niall," Harry stops him from what he's doing, grabbing his hand in the middle and holding onto it. "What's wrong?"

"I don't—" the blond starts to say. He shakes his head, closes his eyes while a frown takes over his features, causing his forehead to scrunch up when he does. "I'm not used to this. I never—my glasses, I never take them off. Not even around my own family."

"Why not?" Harry frowns to himself. Niall wishes he could see his face, wishes he knew exactly what it is that Harry is thinking of in the moment. "I think you're beautiful."

And no. Niall doesn't think he can be beautiful. Not like this, anyway. How can someone like him be beautiful when he hides himself away? When he doesn't let anyone see him in the way others might let themselves be shown? Niall doesn't feel like he's capable of beauty, but when Harry tells him that he is, it sounds like it's a proven fact. It makes him want to believe it himself.

"You're just saying that, Harry," Niall's lips fall into a slight pout. "You're just saying that because you have to."

"I don't have to do anything," Harry pushes back, with just as much force as he feels inside. "I don't have to be your friend, I don't have to spend time with you, I don't have to tell you that I think you're beautiful. I do it because I want to. I say it because I believe it."

Niall feels as though he should cry, feels like he should let it all out without a single care in the world, but the thing is that he can't. As much as he would like to, the tears just won't fall. And maybe that's a good thing. He already feels like he's done more than he's comfortable with at this point. Anything else would be too much.

Niall's hand feels cold without Harry's placed in his once he lets go. But then his heart seems to warm again when Harry presses both of his palms against either side of Niall's face. Niall's cheeks heat up, giving off a rosy tint, and  the butterflies seem to lose every bit of control inside of him all over again. His heart races in the middle of his chest, and his fingers feel fuzzy as they lie limp in his lap since he has no clue what to do with them at this point. He breathes in calculated breaths, releases the air he captures out into the open as slow as he possibly can manage. He isn't sure what's going on at all, feels so out of the loop in this given moment, and all he can feel is the way Harry leans in closer to him, taking his time, until Harry's breaths hit the front of Niall's face faintly.

He can feel Harry's face right in front of his, can feel the electricity bouncing off of his skin, but he doesn't know what to do. Harry's wide hands are still cupping Niall's cheeks, holding him in place, and it doesn't take long for Harry to close the gap between their bodies until his mouth pushes up against Niall's and he kisses him with so much delicacy.

Niall's breath hitches in the middle of his throat the minute he feels Harry's lips upon his. He doesn't do anything, though, just sits there like a statue who can't move, sits there like his body is made of stone. He's literally never done anything like this before, so it's quite obvious that he has absolutely no idea what it is he's supposed to do.

But just because he's inexperienced, doesn't mean he wants it to stop. Because maybe Niall hadn't realized this beforehand, but now that this is happening he finds that maybe it's what he's wanted all along. He just needed Harry to give him a little push, that's all. He always knew there was something there, too. Deep down inside, Niall felt it. Niall craved to be next to Harry all the time, more than he ever had with anyone before. And he always felt funny around Harry; fluttering stomach, sweaty palms, racing heart, and now—now he finally understands it all. He's spent so long questioning himself and his actions, his thoughts and feelings, not knowing what to think of them at all, never knowing what it all meant. But now, he knows for sure. And he's never, ever felt like this about anyone before. But now that he knows what it feels like, he never wants it to stop. He needs Harry now, he feels. He can't feel it any other way.

Much to Niall's disappointment, Harry pulls away. His lips depart from Niall's very own, and Niall feels himself missing the way Harry's mouth felt upon his. He wonders if he's done something wrong, wonders if Harry's feels as though he's made a huge mistake.

"Don't say it," Niall whispers like it's physically impossible to raise his voice any higher than it is now. "Please don't."

"Say what?" Niall hears uncertainty in Harry's voice. He hates that he'll never get the opportunity to see Harry's face.

"Please don't tell me you're sorry."

And Niall's eyebrows furrow, so deep, so sad—he feels so low now. So downhearted. But soon enough, the feeling is being ripped away like it never occurred to Niall at all once Harry brings himself back in and kisses Niall one more time, this time like he means it. This time, like he's always wanted to do for so long.

At first it's only a simple touch of the lips, a soft but genuine kiss shared between the two that makes Niall reach out to grip the shirt that's spread out against Harry's abdomen with eager fingers. He holds onto Harry's clothing so tight that he's sure he's going to leave a few wrinkles behind but can't find the will to care at all. He just—he feels so new, so different than he ever has before right now; so light and airy, like he's walking amongst the white clouds that float on by up above. Harry squeezes his eyes a little tighter, presses himself a little closer to Niall than they already are once he hears a soft whine coming from the back of Niall's throat. He wants to feel Niall―wants to feel him in every way he possibly can, wants to fit inside all of his molds, to become one, almost as if they were the same. His hands continue to hold Niall's soft, pink cheeks, as though he'd get away if Harry were to ever let him go.

It's a pretty known fact that Niall likes to touch. He likes to feel because it's the only thing he can do, really. His timid fingers spread out across the lower part of Harry's torso where he feels soft, like delicate rose petals, like pure silk, and Niall loves it. He's never done anything like this before in his entire seventeen years of living at all, but with Harry he feels as though he's been doing this every day of his life. It's so easy with Harry, Niall thinks. It's so easy to get lost and let himself go.

He loves this―the feeling of having Harry's lips pushed up against his, the feeling of their tongues smoothing across one another, taking him by an odd but nice surprise. But that's just something that comes with Harry; he's always making Niall feel ways he never thought he'd feel before.

Niall doesn't want to let go, but he doesn't protest once Harry starts to pull away. He still holds Niall close, though, close enough so that Niall doesn't have to complain. Their nose brush in between them, so smooth, so gentle, and if Niall's heart doesn't completely burst by the end of today, then he's sure it'll happen soon enough.

With Harry's hands slowly slipping from Niall's frame, the quiet boy uses this as an opportunity to place his palms against Harry's face instead. And just like he'd done when they were in Harry's room, he lets his fingers roam across Harry's face, so easily without even thinking twice about it, and he tries to familiarize himself with Harry's features so he'll never forget them. So that they'll always be in the back of his mind for him to pull out whenever he needs them one day.

"I think you're beautiful, too," Niall mutters lowly to himself like it's a secret only between the two of them for them alone to keep. And if he could see Harry's face right now, he's sure that his thoughts would be one hundred percent true. He doesn't think there would be any other way.


	15. Fourteen

**Harry** ****

All Harry can feel as he sits in his own room, a smile sitting faintly on his lips, is the ghost of Niall's mouth gentle and pliant against his own. He hasn't been able to stop thinking about Niall (well, not like he ever stops thinking about him in general anyway—whatever) and the feel of their soft kiss, the way Niall's timid, slim fingers felt as they held onto him so tight. He sees the milky blueness of his eyes whenever he goes to shut his own, sees the way Niall's mouth stretched so wide and happily when Harry's fingers roamed across his abdomen. Harry can only hear Niall's bubbly giggles in his mind whenever he thinks about anything, and really, he doesn't even mind.

He likes the fact that his mind is so crowded with the image of blond strands of hair and perfect rows of teeth and rosy, rosy cheeks. He wouldn't mind if it stayed this way forever, thinks he'd be okay as long as the thought of Niall never strays too far.

He's absolutely mad, though, but he can't seem to find the will to care. If being crazy it's what he is, he'll be crazy for as long as he can as long as he's crazy for Niall. Which he very much is. He's so far gone for the quiet boy that it's pretty weird to think about. It's kind of scary, too, but then again Niall's not all that scary himself at all so maybe this whole minor obsession Harry has with him isn't so bad.

And maybe—maybe he shouldn't put it that way. Maybe he shouldn't classify the way he feels about Niall as obsessive because that's, well, that's quite weird, and Harry's not obsessed exactly, he's just. He just really, really can't ever seem to stop thinking about Niall, that's all. He just wants to be near him all of the time, feels empty and weird whenever he's not, like his fingers are literally itching to be close to him, and. Oh gosh, maybe that is a little creepy. It's not—he doesn't mean it like _that_. But now that he thinks it through, how else would it look if anyone else were to hear his inner thoughts right now? Crazy, that's for sure. Probably obsessive, but nobody has to know but him. And he plans on keeping this to himself forever, too. He can't let anyone know that he thinks such things like this at all.

He's brought back into the real world, all daydreams of Niall ripped away from his mind all of a sudden, when one of the pillows he uses to sleep with at night comes flying right at his face and sounds of quiet, muffled snickers follow right behind. "What the hell?" He frowns, pushing the pillow away from his face and sitting up straight. And of course his two best friends bust out into a fit of uncontrollable laughter when he gets a look at them, and really, they're all a bunch of immature children it seems. How is it possible that he's friends with people who have the same mindsets as five year old kids? Bummer, really, that is.

"You've been smiling to yourself and staring at the wall for like the past fifteen minutes, mate. I was getting kind of concerned over here."

And fuck Zayn. Fuck Liam, too, he doesn't get a free pass, especially when he seems to go along with whatever tricks and schemes people have just for a laugh and some giggles. He loves them both, he does with all of his heart, but fuck them. Fuck them both.

"Fuck off," Harry grumbles with a roll of his eyes. "I was not." Except, you know, he was but whatever.

"You were," Zayn snorts and Liam can't stop giggling because of course he can't. Maybe he's a little high. Harry starts to wonder exactly what he and Zayn did before they came over today. "I made Liam snap a pic, look."

"Are you serious?" Harry asks incredulously, leaning forward with squinted eyes as if he's trying to make out the picture displayed on Liam's screen when he shoves his phone right in front of Harry's face. He can see the image perfectly, though, and of course there he is, captured in the moment, looking like a dazed fool staring at the wall and smiling like the idiotic boy he is, just like Zayn said. He's such a mess it isn't even funny.

"Delete that," Harry orders but he knows neither of them will listen. He's just wasting his breath here, isn't he?

"Too late," Zayn grins deviously. "We already sent it to Louis. He can't miss out on all the fun while he's not here, can he?" Wow, he really hates them both. Louis, too, even though he isn't here with them yet (which he will be soon), he still hates him just as much as he hates the other two right now.

And speak of the devil, Louis comes barging in just in time, not even bothering to give Harry a break the minute he steps foot inside Harry's bedroom. Ugh, maybe he should've tried to hang out with Niall today instead of these baboons he calls friends. Shit, now he's thinking about Niall all over again, and does it ever stop? No, the answer is no and will probably always be that, too.

"All have you know," Louis chimes way too happy for Harry's liking. And Harry just groans obnoxious out loud because he just knows what Louis is about to say, and he'd rather him not say anything at all. But that's just Louis' specialty; he's the king of embarrassing people. It's how it's always been from the move by they met up until now. "Harry tends to do this when he's thinking about you-know-who."

Louis makes little air quotes around the words 'you know who' and Harry just scowls at him because how much do his friends talk about him and _"you know who"_ when he's not with them? Too much, probably. He's just going to assume that it's way too much.

"I knew it!" Liam whispers to himself, does a little cheer of victory afterwards because he's an idiot like that. They all are.

"What happened this time?" Louis quirks an eyebrow as he plops down next to Harry where he lays on top of his bed. He flicks the little nub at the side of Harry's ankle with his fingers, silently telling Harry to that he's ready and waiting for his answer.

"What do you mean?" Harry frowns. He feels like his eyebrows will be stuck like this forever if he doesn't stop now. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Come off it," Louis quickly waves him off. "Last time you were like this, you finally admitted to yourself that you fancy him—which for some reason you still try to deny even though pretty much everyone on the entire planet already knows—" _they do not—_ "and now there's something else. What is it?"

"I don't, I—"

"If you got him to touch your willy then props to you, man," Zayn blurts out, and what the hell? Harry didn't even know what to say to that. Of course his cheeks decide to heat up like they never have before, too. Just—just fuck everything today, honestly. Fuck it all. "I will never, ever make fun of you again if that happened."

"This is coming from someone who gets zero action whatsoever, Harry," Liam uses his thumb to point Zayn's way while his eyes lock with Harry's. "I wouldn't really take this as something to appreciate if I were you."

"Mate," Zayn moves to sit up straight, pushing a hand against Liam's shoulder as if trying to tell him to stop right there. "Trust me, if I wanted to get my prick some attention, I definitely could in a heartbeat. I'm just saving myself for someone special."

" _Fuck off_ ," everyone says in unison, laughing hysterically at the wink Zayn does when he finishes his sentence. He's so full of shit that it's actually hilarious. _Come on_.

It's true, though. Zayn doesn't really get much action, because he could if he really wanted to especially with a face like that, _God_ , but that's only because he doesn't care much. And he's such a free spirit, really. He's just so chill and mellow about life itself, doesn't really care much about anything or think too much about stuff at all, which is actually pretty admirable if Harry must say. He doesn't get much action, no, but he could get it from anyone if he cared about shit like that. He likes girls, though, it's who he prefers, but girls, guys—whatever, you name it, he's not all that picky about it.

And Zayn just laughs it off, shrugs his shoulders, and goes on about himself like he had been before.

Do any of them really get much action, though? Louis does every once in a while, you know, whenever he's in the mood. He's been pining over this one girl recently, refuses to do anything with anyone else because of it, but it's fairly new, his feelings, so he doesn't mention them. Liam's been talking to a girl lately who's kind of his girlfriend but not really because he's an idiot and doesn't about stuff like that even though he stresses himself out about what the two of them are to each other way too much for Harry to still want to pay attention to his love life at all. Zayn, well, we all know his story, and Harry not he other hand—he's pretty much a lost cause. A lost cause who gets no action in any way shape of form—save for the kiss Niall and him just shared recently—and never really has either now that he thinks about it.

He's not a prude, though, not completely innocent. He's kissed people before, two girls to be exact, and now he can add one boy to that list, too. Not that he's keeping track or anything, not that there's a list because he's not like that and he's not trying to fill up his romance resume either, there's just been enough times for him to count, that's all. And he almost had sex once before, with the second girl he kissed, but thank God he hadn't. He kind of freaked out about it when it was all happening and stopped himself from going on, kind of only went through with it because of peer pressure and all that and because he felt like he was the only one who hadn't been doing anything with people. That's okay, though. It doesn't matter that he's inexperienced in that aspect of life. Losing your virginity isn't a race, and never will it be either. If it happens, it'll happen when it happens. He doesn't stress himself out about that kind of stuff, anyway.

Plus, it sounds kind of cliche, but he doesn't want to just do it with anyone. He doesn't want to just throw himself out there because he's eager to lose that part of himself, 'cause he's not. He wants that time to come with someone he cares about, with someone special to him like Zayn just joked about, as lame as that sounds. It's just a preference, and everyone has their own, and that's okay. It shouldn't matter if people have Harry's mindset or if they just don't care at all; your body, your choice, he feels. He's all about that, self comfort and everything.

It's weird, though, how his mind seems to go straight to Niall when thinking about this kind of stuff. It's really weird actually, and no, he shouldn't be thinking about Niall and sex and losing virginities in the sand sentence because that's just wrong and—no. This shouldn't be happening. He's not going to think about sex while thinking of Niall too because he's just not. It isn't going to happen.

Oh fuck, he's so screwed.

"We kissed," Harry blurts out all of a sudden, and now he can only hear the rapid beating of his heart so loud in his ears like it's playing through the speakers in his headphones. It's like the whole room goes silent, too. Everyone stops breathing, stops moving, stops everything, and it kind of freaks him out. Because him kissing Niall isn't that big of a deal, but like, it very much is and there's absolutely no denying that. "I mean, I, like. I kissed him. I kissed him, and like, we kissed... and stuff?"

"And _stuff_?" Louis literally screeches and it's so loud that he has to stick a finger in his ear just to block the noise. _Jesus Christ_. He starts slapping Harry's arm at the same time, too, and ouch. That hurt, Harry pouts to himself.

"No!" Harry's eyes grow wide, frantically shaking his head. "No, not 'and stuff', I didn't mean it like that. We just—we just kissed, that's all."

"Harry fuckin' Styles, you are a legend, my friend."

And all three of his friends start to cheer for him, start to pile their bodies right on top of Harry's because apparently this is something that needs to be celebrated even though it really isn't. This is how he's felt all weekend ever since the kiss, though; like there's been a party inside of Harry's stomach and his brain and it just won't stop. His insides are still dancing the night away. He's never been so excited in his life. All because of a fucking kiss, who would've thought?

Liam pats Harry on the shoulder like he's a child back in grade school seeking approval from his teacher because of excellent behavior. "You got a blind kid to kiss _you_?" His eyebrows raise proudly. "I'm thoroughly impressed."

And Harry doesn't think Liam realizes how wrong that sounds, doesn't think he means what he said in a bad way at all, either, but Liam has a tendency to say stupid things sometimes, to word things the wrong way that often gets him into trouble, and no offense, but it's a really horrible trait for someone to have and it's something he should think about working on, too, for his sake, of course.

"Don't call him that," Harry's face turns to stone, his lips pressing together in a hard line and his eyebrows furrowing to the center of his forehead. He hates that term so much, hates how Niall has to be reduced down to such a title like that because if anyone knew him like Harry knows him, they'd realize that he's so much more than being fucking blind. And it's a privilege, really, a real treasure to get to know someone as pure and wonderful as Niall. Everyone should have the chance to know someone like him in their lifetime. He's probably the greatest person Harry's ever met in his entire life. Niall deserves the world, he does. He deserves every good thing in life. He deserves to be seen as so much more than just a 'blind kid'. Better yet, it's just common courtesy not to refer to someone with a disability such as Niall's in that way. It's just what's right.

"I'm sorry," Liam's face twists up out of honest guilt and Harry can tell he's genuinely apologizing for what he's just said. "I didn't—"

"I know," Harry cuts him off with a nod before sighing out loud. "I'm just—I'm really protective over him."

Harry frowns to himself when he thinks about how much he really has learned to are for Niall these last couple of months. But, fuck, now he wishes he would've never admitted to that because now his friends (Louis especially, the little shit) are never going to let him live this down. Ever.

"Aw, our little Harry is in love," Louis coos, moving in to squish Harry's cheeks, and see what he meant? The teasing is already starting, not that it ever stopped in the first place.

"I'm not—" Harry huffs, "I'm not in love."

"He's whipped," Zayn says like it's a matter of fact. What does he know? "Let's just say that."

And, well, Harry doesn't even try to deny it. He'd never be able to anyway.


	16. Fifteen

**Niall**

His cheeks are red. His cheeks are _so_ red and his heart is beating fast and—and he's really doing this, isn't he? He's finally gathered up enough courage to agree to let Harry drag him over to the table he used to sit at with all of his friends before he started to spend his lunch hour with Niall and only him. He's not sure what made him agree to it all of a sudden, but he doesn't regret a single thing. In fact, it kind of feels right, even though he's basically nothing but a big sack of nerves and built up anxiety right now, but it's okay because he's got Harry by his side, and really, he's all Niall needs to help him feel sane. He's still crazy, though, crazy for Harry, that is. Crazy for nobody else in this entire world but him. It's such a nice feeling, come to think of it.

But he still feels out of place, feels out of his comfort zone being around so many people he doesn't know. Besides Harry and Louis (even though they don't know each other that well), they're the only people he's ever been around and now he's not sure what to do. He's not sure how to act, what to think—what's he supposed to say? What's he supposed to do with himself for the rest of the hour? He's not even sure if he'll ever know the answers to those questions. One thing he is sure of, though, is that if he needs it, he can look for and find reassurance in Harry because Harry's good at that and—he doesn't want to get too ahead of himself, doesn't want to set his hopes too high, but they're quite good for each other, aren't they? They could be, Niall and Harry. They could be the greatest team, he thinks. He _hopes_ Harry feels the same way.

He's glad that the conversation isn't solely centered around him. He's not sure how he'd react if the attention was all on him. There's normal conversation, thank God. Harry's friends, Louis, and the two he's just recently met, Zayn and Liam, talk about nothing and anything it seems, just like how a bunch of friends normally would. They speak about their weekends, gossip about their fellow classmates here and there, talk about the teachers they love to hate and the homework they procrastinate doing, which Niall finds kind of funny when he hears them talking about it but he's too afraid to laugh, too afraid to crack a simple smile that would show the rest that he's actually, somewhat, enjoying sitting here so far. His nerves have taken over too much of him to do or feel anything else besides worry. It's pathetic, he knows, but he's just not used to this kind of thing. He's not used to normal.

His thigh pressed together with Harry's like a sandwich, literally no space between them whatsoever, is what's keeping him calm, really. They way Harry's foot knocks gently into his own makes him feel okay, better now that he knows he's not really alone. Not that he ever would be anyway now that Harry's a constant in his life. Which, he is and it's great to finally admit that to himself. It feels like a breath of the freshest air; _phew_.

He shouldn't be thinking about it, shouldn't keep going back to that day last week in his bedroom where he and Harry locked lips for the first time, but it's hard not to reminisce that moment. Hard not to want to happen again, either, 'cause Niall's been dreaming about it a lot, hoping and wishing for another kiss with Harry—just one more, maybe even a lot more if possible—and he just hopes Harry is wishing for the same thing, too. Finds himself wondering if Harry hadn't been able to stop thinking about that day ever since, and if Niall's daydreams happen to be true, he wonders if and when Harry will ever initiate another smooch between them. He definitely can't be the first one to do it again, though. He'd freak out too much to even pull a stunt like that, would probably chicken out before he ever got a chance to think about kissing Harry again. It's a shame that he lacks so much confidence in himself, it sucks, he knows, but it's all he's been used to for his entire life. It's the only way he knows how to be.

He pulls himself out of his own mind just in time because now the conversation around him is directed his way, and how embarrassing would it have been if he'd been caught, zoned out and stuck in his own little world like how he just was moments ago? "What do you say, Niall?" Someone asks him—Zayn, Niall thinks it is.

And apparently he hadn't pulled himself out of his thoughts fast enough because he's not exactly sure what he's supposed to be answering right now. "Huh?" He questions cluelessly, earning a few light hearted chuckles from around him. He blushes hard once again; Harry gently knocks his knee into his own.

"We usually all try to hang out on the weekends together," Liam chimes in instead, and his voice is so nice and easy that Niall doesn't even feel nervous about what Harry's friends are currently offering him like he normally would have been. It's a start, he tells himself. "You can join us if you want this time. It'll be cool."

"Yeah," Louis adds with his high voice that Niall already finds is becoming familiar to him. "We always try to make it fun, too. It probably won't be _all_ that fun, but still. You should come."

Hearing the sincerity in all of their voices, hearing how happy and willing and eager they are for Niall to become apart of their group in a way makes Niall feel all funny inside. It's a new feeling, something he's never felt before, and, come to think of it, he's never had people so enthusiastic, so keen on being his friend before that it feels so... weird. Why do they even want to be his friend in the first place? What's so great about Niall that's making everyone so intent on having him around more? He's barely uttered a single word since lunch has started. They barely know a thing about him, yet they're all so dead set on having him around. It doesn't make any sense to him, doesn't feel _right_ , but Niall doesn't want to question them. Niall doesn't want to push away his first and most likely only chance at making friends. Because Niall needs this, he needs this so fucking much and he can't afford to throw this all away. He can afford to miss out on such an amazing opportunity just because he's scared of change.

Which he is, scared that is. He's petrified of change and trying new things, but it's been a long time coming and now's his chance, and if he doesn't take it while he can, he'd be a right fool not to. He'd never forgive himself if he backed out now. He'd probably regret it so much until it was impossible to regret any more.

He's so scared, so terrified of new and all things different, but that's okay. Sometimes changes are good. Sometimes changing is what's necessary.

He can feel everyone around him waiting for an answer, and well, he supposed he's put them off long enough. So he nods, slowly, timidly like he normally is, but the movement is an obvious one, one that they all catch on to. "Okay," Niall agrees softly, shockingly, but he does.

"Great!" Louis squeals loudly, and wow, yeah, he can be quite noisy, can't he?

Niall doesn't get to see all the smiles on everyone's faces, especially the wide grin that takes over Harry's features like he's just been given the greatest news of his entire life, but boy does he feel it. Feels the bliss and the delight radiating around him like heat waves in the middle of a blaring, hot summer, and it's greater than he's ever felt before. Even greater when Harry swings an arm around his shoulder, that could be seen in only a friendly, platonic way from the outside looking in, but when Harry pulls him in until their shoulders meet in the middle and they lean against each other like they're never meant to be apart, Niall knows it's something more. Feels it, too. Deep, deep down, he knows there's something else there, and he knows that Harry feels and knows it, too.

***

"You don't have to go, you know?" Harry tells him as they make their way down the empty corridors, having to have left lunch earlier than everyone else so that he could escort Niall to class like he normally does everyday. They left a bit earlier than usual, twenty minutes before instead of ten, but that's only because Niall selfishly wanted a bit of time alone with Harry while he could. He didn't really need to go make a quick trip to his locker before class, didn't really need to make a pit stop at the toilets either, but Harry didn't know wouldn't hurt him. It'll just be his little secret to keep. He's sure Harry's caught on by now anyway, seeing as they aren't exactly headed anywhere in particular at this point, just casually strolling down the hallways like they've got all the time in the world right their on their sides.

"I mean," Harry continues, but Niall's not really focused on the sound of his voice right now. He's too busy basking in the way his fingers fit perfectly in between the spaces of Harry's own, and—he wonders if Harry's noticed how Niall's hand has travelled down from where it was wrapped around his bicep like it usually is when they walk, to Harry's palm instead, or if he's too busy worrying like he always does about Niall and his level of comfort for the moment. "If you're not comfortable with going, you don't necessarily have to. Like, we could find something else to do instead, or you could come to mine or I could go to yours and—"

" _Harry_ ," Niall interrupts his word vomit with a round of boisterous chuckles, shaking his head all the while because Harry's an idiot really, an idiot who worries way too much for someone like him, but Niall doesn't mind because it's kind of cute, really, and—and Niall really likes him. Either way, extreme worrier or not, Niall still likes him and he doesn't think that's going to change anytime soon.

(At least, he hopes it won't. Knowing him, thought, it probably won't. He's in too deep to turn back now. It's a shame, really.)

"I think I'll be okay." Niall finishes. _Especially if you're around_ , he wants to say but refrains from doing so in the end. Nerves and stuff like that and whatnot. "And yes, I'm sure, before you ask me if I am."

"Wow," Harry laughs to himself, a bit embarrassed, cheeks a rosy pink and all. "Right, 'm sorry. I just like making sure. I just want you to be as comfortable as possible."

And that's nice, Niall thinks. It's nice knowing he has someone that cares enough about him in a way that Harry does. Now that he has someone like Harry, he can't imagine what it would be like not to all of a sudden. He's not sure what he'd do if he had to be on his own from here on out, not sure what he'd do if he didn't have anyone by his side like Harry is. It kind of hurts to think about so he stops thinking about it all together.

"Thanks, Harry," he mumbles quietly, giving Harry's fingers a little squeeze without realizing he's even beginning to do so at all. "That really means a lot to me."

And he hopes Harry understands, hopes Harry can see how much it does when he looks down at him. He hopes Harry realizes how good he is for Niall, how much he feels the same way about him, too. It all he ever wants, really. That's the one thing Niall cares about most: knowing that Harry gets the point of it all, knowing that Harry knows that whatever it is they have between them is here to stay.

"I— _hey_ ," Harry starts to say, stopping dead in his tracks, causing Niall to stop walking beside him as well. A smug smile starts to grow on Niall's pink lips because he has a feeling that Harry's just now catching onto what Niall had been wondering if he noticed beforehand. He tries to stop the giggles rising in the center of his throat from slipping out of his mouth. "You're holding my hand." Harry states the obvious, in complete awe that's very blatant in the tone of his voice.

Instead of shying away like Niall's so used to doing, instead of untangling his fingers from Harry's and acting as if nothing ever happened, Niall surprises himself (and maybe Harry, too) owing up to it, smiling wide and proud and joyously like the way he feels inside. He holds Harry's hand a bit tighter, radiating rare confidence, silently gesturing never wanting to let go if it wasn't necessary for him not to. Which he wouldn't if he didn't have to, of course. Never would either. "Yeah," Niall nods, grins like Harry's never seen him grin before. "I guess I am."

Although Niall is unable to witness Harry's own lips curving upwards, somehow it's not hard for him to guess the expression that's currently taking over Harry's features. He feels it, knows it's there even if he physically can't witness it himself, but that's okay. And Harry huffs out in disbelief, eyes shifting from Niall's face down to their intertwined fingers, and there's a fire raging inside him, one that rips throughout his entire body and sizzles his heart down to the core, that not even the strongest of waters could put out on their own.

Harry's fingers curl tighter around the back of Niall's hand and inside Niall feels something he wouldn't be able to explain even if he tried to. It's too much, it's indescribable, and it's a feeling he hopes will always last.

And they're both giant smiles and heavy hearts full with adoration and clasped fingers and fluttering stomachs and racing minds they can't keep up with as they continue down the hallways, just the two of them, and it's undoubtedly, unequivocally, the greatest feeling they've ever known. They wouldn't have it any other way.


	17. Sixteen

**Harry**

"I just don't get it," Niall huffs out in frustration as he slams the front door of his own home he's just walked out of behind him—and his eyebrows are furrowed deeply, in a way that Harry's never seen before, in a way that makes his guts churn with annoyance, in a way that makes him want to reach out and smooth his fingers across the wrinkles that adorn Niall's forehead to make them go away because he doesn't like seeing Niall this way, thinks Niall should only be seen with a smile and nothing but that because he deserves to be happy, he does, and there's nothing else he should be but that, Harry feels—and stalks over to where Harry stands, where he's been waiting for him on his doorstep for the past ten minutes or so. "I just don't get why they still treat me this way."

And Niall's words, the way they settle inside Harry's mind, the way they make Harry feel when he hears them, like there's acid burning the walls that line Harry's stomach, or like his heart is sinking down, down, down to the bottom, is something that Harry definitely doesn't like. He doesn't like the feeling at all. _Happy_ , he says to himself in his head, _he should be happy_.

Niall starts to stomp forward, right past where Harry's still standing, with his cane in his hand directing him where he needs to go, but the thing is, Niall doesn't even know which way he's supposed to be going, so therefore he's going the wrong way. Any other time Harry would start to laugh, would start to let out a light chuckle that he'd try to hide behind the back of his hand, but this time it doesn't feel right. Now just doesn't feel like the time.

"Niall," Harry calls out, follows behind the blond and reaches out to grasp at his arm when he's close enough. "Ni, where're you going, huh?"

Harry pulls the shorter boy back until they're face to face, puts his hands on his shoulders to keep him steady. And Niall's still frowning, still pouting his lips like a stubborn little child who hasn't been given his way, and Harry hates the fact that all he can think about is how cute Niall is right now. _Ugh, snap out of it Harry_.

"What's wrong?" Harry makes sure to ask in his smallest voice. "What's got you so upset?"

Niall takes in a deep breath, lets it all out, visibly relaxes when Harry finally fulfills his need to smooth the tiny lines out that have settled into his skin with his fingers. Niall melts into his touch (because why not?) and Harry pretends that he doesn't notice a single thing. He does, though, he notices everything Niall does. Absolutely everything.

"My mum," Niall admits, his voice small and low, before he adjusts the backpack strapped across his shoulders with his free hand. They've both got backpacks on tonight, since Niall was finally hanging out with Harry and the rest of his friends just like they asked at lunch earlier in the week, and everyone had agreed on having a sleepover, just like old times except only with a new addition to their close-knit group. Harry supposes he understands what has Niall in such an off mood at the moment now that he's mentioned his mother. His heart starts to feel heavy with sorrow once he thinks about it, once he thinks about everything Niall has told him he's been through before. "She still insists on treating me like a child, it's not fair. I hate it."

"What happened?" Harry questions, thumbs absentmindedly rubbing across Niall's shoulder blades where his fingers still rest upon.

"I just spent twenty minutes trying to convince her to let me go tonight, that's why you were waiting so long for me. Sorry about that, by the way."

"I don't mind," Harry shrugs because he truly doesn't mind, really. This isn't about him anyway. "You are okay, though, right?"

"I guess," Niall makes a face. Harry wishes he could see him smile again, hopes he can get him to do just that soon. "Just annoyed, is all. I mean, I've been blind practically my whole life, you'd think she'd get over all the initial worry by now. Besides, she always tells me how great it would be for me to make friends, and now that I finally am, she's holding me back. I don't get it. Parents are so stupid."

"Yeah," Harry agrees eagerly, nods his head like what Niall has just said is the truth and nothing but that. "Parents are the worst, aren't they?"

Niall giggles—he actually giggles—so bright and loud that it starts to make Harry's chest feel all tight and warm, gets his mind spinning 'round and 'round like he's gone completely mad, and there's Niall's smile, there's the grim Harry's been wanting to see all along. There's nothing better than it, really. There's nothing better than seeing Niall smile.

"You're just saying that, Harry," Niall's still chuckling like its the funniest thing in the world. (It's not, but if Niall thinks so, then maybe it it. It must be.) "You're just trying to make me feel better."

"'Course I am," Harry tells Niall seriously, like he means it, which he does. He means absolutely every single thing he tells Niall. "That's what I'm s'posed to do."

"I should just come with you," Niall states all of a sudden, making Harry frown out of confusion. "I wish I could just come and live with you—can I? Can I just—can I just run away and live with you forever?"

"Yes," Harry says without hesitation, no beats in between, without even having to think the question over. Why would he need to, though? The answer is quite obvious, and Harry wouldn't have it any other way, otherwise. He'd agree to it in a heartbeat if the situation ever came down to that. He's not exactly sure how he feels about that yet, but right now, right now he doesn't even mind. He's a take it all or leave it all kind of person, anyway. And when it comes to Niall, this is just what you'll get. There's no other way. "Yeah, you can."

Niall throws his head back, laughs wildly, so happily that his grin stretches across his entire face, and isn't it such a sight to see? It's the best, Harry thinks, the greatest he's ever seen before. He's positively sure that nothing in this world could ever compare.

"You're mad, Harry," Niall continues to laugh, continues to make Harry's heart feel like it's going to burst into flames with each second that passes. "Absolutely mad, I'll tell you."

And, well, if he's mad, at least it's for a reason. At least he's mad for Niall.

"We should get going," Harry laughs shortly. "You don't want to witness what Louis's like when he's kept waiting."

The chuckle Niall lets out sends flutters throughout Harry's body, jitters he's never ever felt before, that only intensify when Niall searches for Harry's hand, tangles their fingers together like it's not even a big deal to do so anymore, like it's something they've been doing all along, that leaves Harry dazed and in a trance and feeling even madder than he had before. But Harry doesn't question Niall's actions, though. Instead, he takes it and he runs with it as he starts to lead them on their way with a feeling of complete adoration and craziness following close by him the entire way.

***

Harry tries to ignore the knowing glances Louis sends his way when he and Niall walk into his best friend's room, but it's kind of hard to when it seems to be the only thing Harry can focus on at the moment, especially when Louis just won't turn away, just won't leave him be. Thankfully, he doesn't tease Harry out loud, though; instead he brushes Louis off with a deep blush and adverts his gaze elsewhere so he doesn't end up making a fool out of himself, but knowing Harry, he's bound to do that anyway. It's only a matter of time, really.

He can tell Niall's awfully nervous going by how clammy his hands have gotten compared to how they felt when they were alone, just the two of them, going by the death grip he now has on Harry's fingers like something drastic would happen if he were to ever let go. Niall's on edge, Harry can tell, but there's no reason for him to be even though he fully understands why. Harry, he's always going to be there for Niall no matter what, right by his side, and he's friends with some of the nicest, most genuine and caring people he's ever met, so—although he knows why Niall would be so anxious right now—he's got no reason to be. Around them, there's no need to worry at all.

"Finally!" Louis burst out then, all dramatic and what not like he's so used to being, and he's quite good at that, Harry starts to realize. He's good at diffusing tension, making people feel as comfortable as they possibly can, with just his own bubbly, eccentric personality. He's so thankful for a friend like Louis—really, what would any of them do without him? "S'about time you two showed up, I was beginning to think you guys stood us up. You're the last two to arrive."

"Shut up," Harry snorts, moving forward sit at the edge of Louis' bed once he feels Niall untangle their fingers so that he could grasp at his bicep instead. Niall takes a seat right next to Harry, so close like they physically can't be apart, not that Harry minds anyway. What he does mind is the looks Louis keeps sending him; he can stop doing that anytime he wants now. "The best always come last anyway."

"Then what are you doing here, then?" Zayn chimes in from where he's perched on the floor in front of Louis' television, not even bothering to turn and face Harry when he speaks.

Niall chuckles quietly from Harry's side and Harry just wishes he could see the glare he's sending his way right now. It's a deadly one, alright. "Hey, Niall," Louis greets the blond, earning a few hey's from Liam and Zayn in the background, too. "Glad you could make it."

Niall waves, timidly and cute like he always is, and Harry ought to stop looking at Niall the way he currently is if he wants to save himself from Louis ruthless wrath this time. Ultimately, though, Harry doesn't really mind the teasing at this point. Let it happen, it's not like the whole world doesn't already know about his not so tiny crush now anyway. Jesus, he's so gone. "Hi, guys," Niall chimes in and Harry feels awfully proud for some reason, all of a sudden. He's already given Niall so much in so little time and just thinking about that sends a whirlwind through Harry's heart that he doesn't think will stop any time soon. He'd give Niall the world if he could; the moon, the stars, the sun, the universe, whatever he'd like.

"So, we've not got anything planned as of now, but then again we never do, so we'll just end up winging it like always."

"I still think we should egg Tommy Wilson's house for what he did to me in maths last month—"

"We're not egging Tommy's house, Liam," Louis groans out with a roll of his eyes, the same time Zayn calls out, "We should definitely egg Tommy Wilson's house."

"Well, are you twats gonna buy the eggs yourself, 'cause 'm not in the mood to be murdered by my own mother anytime soon. Do you know how many eggs we go through in this house? A lot, in case you all forgot, I've got like thirty sisters."

"Then let's go buy some eggs," Liam shrugs, starting to get up from where he's sitting behind Louis' desk, like contemplating egging people's houses is just the norm for them. (It's not.) "I'll buy your mum like fifty fucking cartons while we're at it, too, man."

"No thanks," Louis scoffs, and aren't Harry's friends just the most entertaining bunch of lads ever? "I'd be shitting out eggs for the next three months of you did. They aren't _that_ good, Li."

"I think it's settled then," Harry adds his two cents with a smile growing on his face. "We should go buy some eggs."

"Fuck _off_ , Harold, we're not buying eggs, Christ!"

Niall bursts out into a fit of giggles then that sounds like beautiful music to Harry's ears, that had him smiling wider than he even thought physically possible and his heart growing twice the size in his chest because of course it does, of course, Harry just can't help it at this point. Niall ends up leaning against Harry's arm when he laughs, throwing his head back until it rests upon the top of his shoulders, and—and he's so absolutely perfect that Harry can't take it any more. He's sure he's losing it, he's losing it all, but guess what? He doesn't even care. How could he anyway?

"You guys are so funny," Niall sings like wind chimes whistling in the wind. His smile is bright and big and it reminds Harry if the sunshine that shines down on them from up above.

"Great," Louis huffs, throwing his hands in the air in defeat. "Now you've got Harry thinking that he's actually funny, Niall. He's _never_ going to live this down now."

" _Hey_ , I can be funny," Harry frowns dramatically, pouts like a little baby before folding his arms across his chest.

"If you say so," Niall teases him, and if it were anyone else, Louis especially, he'd probably hit them upside the head or even push them off the bed, but this is Niall he's dealing with and with him he just can't find the will to do so, joking or not. He just shakes his head, tells Niall that he's an idiot, and even his insults a much too fond to actually do any damage. Yeah, it's probably safe to admit that he's gone, he's never coming back.

"God, I love this kid," Louis nods like a proud parent, and all Harry can think about is how glad he is. He's glad that everything seems to work out between the five of them, he's glad that Niall fits right in.

***

"You like him a lot, don't you?"

It's Zayn that asks the question, that has Harry stopping in his tracks, almost dropping the blankets and sleeping bags and pillows he's currently carrying once the words are let out into the open. Zayn's voice is soft and kind, easygoing and gentle like the person he is, and for the first time since anyone else has brought the subject up, there's no teasing laced within syllables, no wriggling eyebrows, no knowing smirks sent his way. And—and Harry loves Louis a lot, he loves his best friend so much, but he's kind of glad he's not about to have thus conversation with him at the moment. Because Zayn isn't one to poke fun at people on his own; he's so chill about everything, respects people and their privacy the most, lets people he themselves and doesn't judge them for it either. He also likes making people as comfortable as they can possibly be, much like Harry himself, and isn't one to push for too much. Harry supposes this is what he loves most about his best friend; he's one of the easiest people to talk to, he always keeps things to himself, too.

It's no surprise that his question catches Harry off guard, though. He hadn't really been expecting it at all. They were just downstairs fetching the bedding that they were all going to sleep with tonight since Louis had forced the both of them to (in actuality, they'd really just lost a game of rock paper scissors) and now Zayn is springing this question on him out of nowhere it seems, which Harry doesn't mind at all, no, he's just not prepared, that's all. And they're just about to start walking back up the stairs again, Harry's got one foot on the first step, but now they've both stopped and Harry's staring back at Harry with big, green eyes, and "Yeah," he breathes out, chuckles a bit 'cause it's true and everyone knows it and there's no reason to deny it at all now. He wouldn't be able to get away with doing so anyway. "I like him a whole lot."

Harry's cheeks are burning, bright and pink, and his heart is thumping crazily in the middle of his chest, but it's nothing he's not used to by now since this is normally how he feels whenever Niall's name is so much as mentioned around him. It's wild, he knows, but it's what Niall does to him. It's normal in his eyes.

"Well I think it's nice," Zayn gives Harry a tiny smile, warm and tender, and it makes Harry feel so good inside. "You're helping him a lot, you know? I don't know Niall all that well, but I can tell. I see it."

"I know," Harry nods, chokes a bit on the next words he wants to say because he's got so much to let out that he can't seem to keep up with himself at all. "I just—that makes me really happy, y'know? I don't know, I—I just find myself wanting him to be happy all the time for some reason. Like, that's literally all I want for him. I can't explain it. My chest feels heavy just thinking about it."

"Oh my God," Zayn starts to grin and Harry wants to shy away, wants to run and hide like a timid child since he's never voiced this out loud before and it makes him feel all funny and weird inside. _Wow_. "S'that bad, isn't it?"

"S'so bad, Z, I don't know what to do."

"Well if it makes you feel any better, I'd say he feels the same way about you, too."

"Really?" Harry's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. Zayn had to keep himself from cracking up. "How do you—I mean, what makes you say that?"

"Seriously, Harry? The boy hasn't left your side all night. S'like he's literally attached to your body. S'like, like, it's physically unhealthy for him to not be within two feet from you. I don't think he'd do that if he didn't at least have a little crush on you."

"You really think he feels the same way?"

And Harry doesn't know why he feels so nervous all of a sudden. His guts are churning and his palms are starting to sweat and his knees are shaking, but he can't explain why. He's so on edge right now, and of course everything comes down to Niall. It always does, doesn't it?

Zayn nods, nods like it's a proven fact and he's so, so sure of his answer. "Not sure to what extent, mate, but I'd say he's just as crazy as you are. It's a perfect match."

Harry's not given any time to respond to Zayn's assumptions seeing as Louis pokes his head out from the top of the staircase to yell out their names, to tell them to "Hurry up and get your asses up here already, some of us actually want to fall asleep _before_ tomorrow gets here, you know!" because he's such an impatient little shit, he is, but that's Louis for you. Harry obeys, though, along with Zayn because of course they do, they always will. Louis's got them both (and Liam, too) wrapped around his little finger.

"I would offer one of you guys to share my bed with me, but it wouldn't be fair to let just one of you up here so I guess you're all stuck with sleeping bags." Louis tells the rest of them once Zayn and Harry have brought all of the blankets up from downstairs and dumped them all across the floor.

No one's really surprised by Louis' announcement, though. The entire time the four of them have been friends, he's never been one to share and none of them were thinking he'd give that up anytime soon. Besides, "You snore right in people's ears anyway," Liam retaliates before Harry spits back with a muttered, "And you kick people off the bed in your sleep, too."

"I do not!" Louis screeches.

"You do," Zayn calls back, leading them all to laugh out loud while Louis slumps around like the drama king he is.

It doesn't take long for the sleeping bags to be spread out on the floor, two on either side of Louis' bed. Zayn and Liam are on one side while Harry and Niall take the other, obviously. It takes a while for them to all fall asleep since Louis can't ever seem to shut up, and whoever one of them does start to fall asleep, he ends up messing with—tickling their faces with his slim fingers or hitting them in the head with his pillow because Louis is an actual child like that—only for them to wake back up all over again. Like always, Zayn is the first to fall asleep (and boy does he sleep _hard_ ), followed by Liam and then Louis (out of boredom, of course).

Niall looks asleep; his glasses are off and his mouth is parted slightly, but his eyes are still rolling underneath closed kids. Harry watches him for a while, in a totally non creepy way that is, admires the way the moonlight that glows from between the blinds that cover the window casts a shadow across his soft features, has to force himself not to reach out, not to caress Niall's cheeks with the back of his hand like he really, really, really wants to right about now. His fingers are itching to do so, but he refrains. Smiles at Niall's timeless, effortless beauty and sighs—he's just the luckiest, isn't he?

And now he's not sure if he'll ever be able to fall asleep with Niall right at his side, right in his line of vision. It seems impossible now, but if he happens to lose a bit of sleep because of Niall, well, that's okay. Seems like an ideal reason to lose sleep anyway.

Niall's eyes flutter underneath his lids a little, and he rustles a bit where he sleeps. "Niall," Harry whispers, doesn't worry about keeping too quiet since he knows the others won't hear him while they're sleeping. "Niall, are you awake?"

And Niall's eyes flicker halfway open, milky blue peeking through, almost as if he's staring right back into Harry's green irises. Harry wishes he could, wishes Niall could see him. "Harry?" Niall tries his hardest to whisper, and that's something Harry's finds so cute for some odd reason. He starts thinking back to his and Zayn's conversation from earlier, and wow, he really likes Niall a lot—too much for him to handle, really. "You're still up?"

"Yeah," Harry nods to himself, gives out a breathy chuckle just because. "Apparently you still are, too."

"Can't sleep."

"Me neither."

There's an easy silence that falls between the two for a moment. Harry continues to gaze at Niall like he's the only thing his eyes are capable of seeing. Harry has a sudden urge, am intense feeling that settled deep within him to just be close to Niall, as close as he possibly can be. He wants to be near Niall, share the same heartbeats, breathe the same breaths, share the same space. And Niall's so close—he's so close, within arms reach, but he's never felt so far before. All Harry wants is to feel the warmth of Niall's hand curled around his own again, wants to stay right by Niall's side, stuck together like glue, to where they'd have to physically be pulled apart in order for them to be away from each other, and—and if he wanted to, if he really wants to, he could have it. Because Niall's right there, he's only about a feet or two away—he could do it.

Harry closes his eyes, slowly breathes in and out before his lips part and he's calling out Niall's name again. It just sounds so beautiful rolling off of his tongue. "Niall?" He calls out, nothing but a faint murmur, but inside his heart is beating so loud. 

"Hmmm?" Niall hums like a bird whose song he sings is made only for Harry and no one else.

And Harry doesn't think twice—doesn't think at all, really—before scooting closer to where Niall lays, right next to his body until his warmth radiates onto the blond and his body stills underneath the comforter draped over his limbs. Harry rests his head upon the pillow Niall occupies, and it's a brave move, a close call, but Harry's giving it his all and he's not about give up just yet.

"What are you doing?" Niall asks, a bit breathless, but otherwise he doesn't shy away Suharto takes that as a good sign.

"I thought I'd feel better if I was closer to you." Harry's never been so anxious for a reply in his life.

Niall's posture is stiff, tense and hesitant, but Harry can tell that he's trying. For Harry, for _himself_. And Harry lifts a hand up, at last, like he'd been wanting to do the entire night, only to place it against Niall's rosy cheek, warm and smooth to the touch. Niall shudders at the feeling of Harry's fingers upon his skin, and before he realizes it, he melts into Harry's touch like he was bound to do all along. And Harry cards his fingers through strands of fluffy, blond hair, scratches softly at Niall's scalp, and this is as close as they've ever been before. Apart from the kiss they both shared, they've never been closer. Harry kind of likes it; he has a feeling that maybe Niall does, too.

Harry leans in, then, closer until their foreheads meet in the middle and their noses knock on the gentle way. Harry admires Niall again, takes in all of his features, the lashes that line his eyelids and fan across the apples of his cheeks when he blinks, the slope of his nose, the slight freckles that etch his milky skin, the faint tint of a blush that colors his face, and—my goodness, Niall has got to be the prettiest thing that Harry's ever seen before. There's no way he isn't.

Harry sighs—sighs happily, sighs out of content, because he is. At the moment, pretty often lately, he's been really happy and there's no one else to blame but the timid boy who lays right by his side. He feels like it should be this way often, with Niall pressed up against him like he is now. He wouldn't really mind.

"I think this is much better," Niall ends up saying, bringing a smile to Harry's face with only six simple words, without even having to try. And Harry's used to the way his stomach flutters around Niall, the way his heart beats like it never wants to stop, the way his mind feels like it's on the verge of exploding, but what he'll never get used to is the possibility that Niall feels the same way. Harry's still not one hundred percent sure, though, but as of right now, it's in his best bet. It's probably safe for him to say that maybe they're on the exact same page.


	18. Seventeen

**Niall**

He wakes up to muffled snickers, quiet and hushed little giggles that have him stirring where he lays underneath his sleeping bag, frowning out of complete confusion because this isn't how he normally wakes up in the mornings, and wait—where even is he right now? This isn't his bed, he doesn't smell the familiar scent of his candles that have burned out overnight, doesn't feel the softness of his own pillowcase he usually falls asleep upon. There's an annoyed groan that fills the air when he starts wiggle about, and then that's when he remembers, disoriented at best, that oh yeah, he spent the night at Louis' place with Harry and the rest of his friends—he supposes that explains why he was so thrown off guard when he initially woke up.

He also suddenly remembers falling asleep with Harry right beside him, sharing the same pillow, the same warmth, the same comfort, with their noses squished together and their foreheads pressed up against each other's, and, now that he really thinks about it, last night was quite possibly one of the best sleeps he's ever had before. He could blame it on anything in the world, the reason for that being, but it'd be awfully pointless to do so since it's obvious it's Harry who's finger he should be pointing at. He almost smiles to himself, weirdly content with himself for getting that much farther with his best friend, but then he remembers the giggles that interrupted his slumber, remembers that he and Harry aren't exactly alone at the moment.

The groan must've come from Harry because Niall now feels him moving from beside him, sitting up and causing the blankets that cover his and Niall's bodies to shift (and no, no Niall doesn't shiver from the coolness of the morning, he doesn't at all); he lets out another grumble, probably swiping away the leftover sleep from his eyes with a sluggish hand, Niall pictures, before he starts to speak up with a groggy morning voice that Niall absolutely does not find attractive at all, no way. "What the hell are you idiots even laughing about this early in the morning?" He asks out loud, to no one in particular really. Niall is aware that the question isn't directed towards him, though, he hadn't been apart of the sneaky giggling.

"Oh, nothing," Niall recognizes as Louis' voice. Even early in the mornings he's still a mischievous one, he notices. What time is it anyway?

He's too scared to ask, too scared to really make himself known, either, even though he's pretty sure the others already know he's awake anyway. He stays quiet nonetheless; he's still trying to get used to this whole company slash friend thing.

Niall hears a few pairs of feet pattering across the floor, then, followed by a quick, "Breakfast downstairs in a bit if you want it!" from Louis again, and that's all there is until the room goes quiet again and all Niall can focus on is the way Harry breathes in and out next to him, and—would it be weird if Niall said he liked the sound? Probably. It'd probably sound even weirder if he mentioned how calm it makes him feel, too. So he doesn't, keeps those thoughts to himself because that's the better thing to do in this case, of course.

"Niall?" Harry calls out to him, soft and easy, before placing a hand against Niall's shoulder and gently nudging him. "You awake?"

Niall fakes like he's just now been woken up, shuffling underneath the covers he slept with during the night. "Harry?" He hums out, even though he's totally aware that they're the only two left in Louis' room.

"Yeah," Harry chuckles breathily. Niall finds himself wondering just exactly how beautiful he looks when he smiles. "That's typically what they call me."

"Shut up," Niall huffs playfully, mentally rolling his eyes. He remembers how his glasses aren't perched against his nose right now, and for the first time, he doesn't feel bothered by that at all. For the first time, he's okay with being so bare around someone else that isn't himself, doesn't mind not being hidden away behind his so called shield. It kind of—it kind of feels great, even. It just feels really good. "Where's everyone else?"

"Making breakfast, apparently. We should probably head down, too, yeah?"

"Mhm," Niall shrugs, finally sitting upright now. It still feels a bit weird not waking up in his own house since that's all he's really ever known, but Niall kind of likes it because it's new, something he's not really used to, but he's glad he's experiencing things that "normal" people usually do. He's slowly coming out of his shell of inexperience, marking things off the list as they come, one by one. "My mum's probably chewing off her fingers waiting for me to come home now, I'd say."

"Oh shit," Harry gasps a little. "D'you have to be home? We'd have to miss out of breakfast but I can take you home now if you'd li—"

"Relax, Harry," Niall shakes his head, blindly reaching out for a part of Harry he can rest his hand upon for reassurance. His hand finds itself on top of Harry's thigh, he thinks; his cheeks start to burn the brightest shade of red, and he mentally debates whether he should go with the flow and keep his hand there, or if he should cower out and let go instead. In the end, after a six second debate with himself, he ultimately decides to remove his hand since he already feels flustered enough. Wouldn't want to embarrass himself even more now, would he?

"My mum didn't give me a set time to be back," Niall continues. "Besides, even if she had, 'm already here now anyway, aren't I?"

"Calm down," Harry starts to laugh, and Niall joins in on the fun, too, since he's bound to do so anyway. This is Harry, for crying out loud. "I'm not used to this rebellious Niall yet. Gotta let this new you sink in first."

"Idiot," Niall teases underneath his breath, shaking his head in the fondest way because that's typically how he feels whenever he's around Harry. So fond and warm-hearted and absolutely better than he's ever felt in his entire life. He doesn't even remember what life felt like before Harry came into his. He's not sure if he wants to know either.

"C'mon," Harry chuckles lightly before reaching out to grab Niall's hand in his own. "Let's get down there before Louis has a proper fit or Zayn and Liam end up eating all the food and we're left to fend for ourselves."

"Okay," Niall snorts, nods a little, while he tries to wonder what it'd be like if any of what Harry's just said were to actually happen.

Harry helps pull Niall upright then, till they're both standing up and ready to head downstairs to meet up with the others. Before they can actually get going, though, Niall stops Harry from continuing on, placing a hand against his chest to get him to stop walking forward. And—oh. Niall wasn't exactly expecting to feel smooth, bare skin underneath the tips of his fingers, wasn't expecting Harry to be sans a shirt to cover up his torso at all, but now that he's discovered this out, he can't help how his face starts to to turn hot, starts to glow red, red, red. He quickly pulls his hand away, almost as if Harry's flesh physically burns him whenever they touch. His cheeks are flushed and his chest feels tight and he has to refrain himself from wishing that he could feel Harry underneath his palms again, has to stop himself from reaching out and touching him like he's never touched anything or anyone before. It's a bit too early in the morning to be having these kind of thoughts, Niall supposes. He can feel his cheeks getting even hotter than before.

"Um," Niall's voice shakes nervously, feeling like there's something lodged in the center of his throat that's keeping him from speaking out properly. "Do you think you can show me to the bathroom? I kind of have to go."

"Oh, yeah, right," Harry stumbles a bit over his words. Niall wonders what he looks like right now; of he's nodding his head frantically, if he looks just as embarrassed as Niall feels at the moment, if his cheeks are burning the same way Niall's are, too. Niall wonders if Harry's just as beautiful in the early mornings as he is any other time of day like Niall truly believes he is. Because there's no way he isn't, really. There's no way that Harry isn't beautiful. He has to be a sight to see, Niall considers.

Harry leads Niall out of Louis' room, Niall's hand wrapped around Harry's bicep like he's grown so used to doing. They turn a corner, walk down a hall, and soon enough Harry's leading Niall into a room, pushing open the door and flicking on the light switch which Niall can hear clicking when he does. "Here's the sink," Harry mutters, walking Niall forwards a few steps and reaching down for his hand before pulling it forward and letting him feel around and letting his fingers become more familiar with the faucet for a bit. "And here's the toilet," Harry continues, sidestepping and allowing Niall to feel around for the handle used to flush. "Okay?" Harry questions, just to make sure. And he's so close to Niall that his soft words send chills down Niall's spine, causing him to shiver just a bit where he stands. He just hopes Harry hasn't caught on to that.

"Mhm," Niall nods slowly. He feels Harry's hands slip away from him, feeling a little cold from loss of touch.

"I'll wait for you outside the door, yeah?"

Niall doesn't say anything, just nods again, waits until he heard the door click shut before he moves along to get his business done. It doesn't take long, and before he knows it he's washing his hands and cleaning himself up before he leaves the bathroom. He reaches out for the door's handle, successfully pulling it open once it's found. His hand caresses the wall next to him, aimlessly roaming around in search for the light switch. He flips it down, getting the lights to turn off once he finds it and closes the door behind him after he steps out again.

"Wow, took you long enough," Harry jokes, feigning a yawn and poking Niall's side with his pointer finger, making him squirm away from where Harry is standing.

"I couldn't see," Niall jokes back just as sarcastically. Harry ends up snorting so loud that it actually sounds like it could've hurt, but in the end Niall's just proud that he could make Harry laugh like that. It's his favorite thing to do, really. He could only be able to hear Harry's laugh for the rest of his life and nothing else at all and he's sure he'd be content with just that. How could he not be when Harry's laughter makes him feel all bright and bubbly inside whenever he hears it?

"C'mon, you absolute nutter."

And if Niall finds himself smirking privately to himself as Harry leads them downstairs to meet up with the rest of his friends, well there's no one else to blame for his actions but Harry. But then again, isn't he always to blame?

***

"Harry, Niall, don't go! You'll miss out on all the fun we're about to have!"

It's Louis who's begging and pleading for Niall and Harry to stay just a bit longer for his sake of course. Niall giggles quietly to himself; Louis is definitely something else, Niall's come to learn. He's one of those 'see it for yourself' people who, you only believe stories you hear about him unless you witness them in person, otherwise Louis just seems like a myth all together, like he's not real and he's just a figment of Harry's creative imagination. He's real, though, each and every aspect of him, and it's clear to Niall now that he's kind of getting to know one of Harry's best friends more and more.

"Define 'fun'," Harry snorts, probably rolls his eyes, too, but he doesn't even give Louis a chance. Just continues to guide he and Niall closer to the front door like he's been itching to get away from here for far too long.

"He can't," Zayn chimes in smoothly. "Fun isn't even in his vocabulary. S'more like 'disaster' or the phrase 'complete mess'."

"Fuck off, I'm fun. Right, Liam?"

"Huh?" Is Liam's answer that only makes Louis huff out loud dramatically while everyone else lets out a round of laughter. "I mean yeah," he quickly changes his mind, but it's too late. "You're loads of fun."

"Thank you, even if your answer was nothing but sarcasm, I appreciate the effort."

"No problem, man."

"Right," Harry suddenly interrupts the conversation, making Niall's ears perk up at the sound. He could listen to Harry's voice all day if that were possible. Thinks he likes that idea quite a lot. "Well, we'll see you losers Monday then, yeah?"

Niall has no idea why Harry's in such a rush at all. They've finished with their breakfast by now and they've chilled out for a bit, too, but is there a reason that they have to leave so soon? Niall comes to the conclusion that Harry just wants to be a good, responsible boy and have Niall home at a reasonable time so they don't have to worry about the risk of him getting back too late. Niall doesn't mind, though, he doesn't think. He's had a nice time so far, he's just glad that he gets to actually experience things now.

"If you insist..." Louis mopes about. "It was fun having you around with us, Niall. It's like you're that one missing piece our group needs."

"Come back, soon, yeah?" Zayn then adds, along with Liam stating his agreements in the background.

Niall blushes from all of their words, feels his heart swell inside his chest with a happiness that he just can't explain, that he's never really felt before, and it—it makes him feel good. Makes him feel so good that there are people out there who are willing to accept him for, well, him. He couldn't ask for anything more, really. Figures this, what he has now, is enough for him at the moment. He can't ever and won't ever complain.

"Thanks guys," Niall speaks softly, shyly, still trying to familiarize himself with this new environment. "I really appreciate it."

It's not long before Harry and Niall finally make their way out, setting off for a short journey to take Niall back home. Harry's got both of his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his sweater, Niall with one hand gripping the cane he uses to guide him, the other lying limply at his side. It's quiet between the two, nothing but the sounds of their shoes scraping against the concrete pavement, nothing but the slight breezing brushing past them, tinting their cheeks a soft pink and making the hair on top of their heads flutter in the wind.

Niall feels oddly content at the moment, a weird tingling feeling settling inside that lets him know how good he's feeling, how great his life seems to be flowing lately. And, it's a new thing, a different feeling than what he's known, but it's a feeling he doesn't ever want to be without. Know that he has a taste of a new side of life, he doesn't ever want to forget it. There's only one way from here, he supposes, and that way is up. Up and up and nowhere else but there.

"You know," Harry breathes out, cutting through the silence that floats aimlessly around them. And, is it bad that Niall's heart always seems to beat a little too fast whenever Harry does anything? Is it bad that Harry affects him this much, that he sets off these kind of reactions in Niall—like fireworks and missiles and bombs being set off inside of him all at once—that he just can't keep up with no matter how hard he tries? It has to be, right? It can't be a good thing, Niall doesn't think. "I'm starting to think my friends like you better than they like me."

And Niall smiles, smiles so wide that his cheeks start to burn and his mouth starts to feel tight. "Well, I'm a charmer, what can I say?"

"You're head's getting a bit big there, babe, don't you think?"

Niall tries not to focus on the way his stomach feels once the word 'babe' slips out of Harry's mouth. It's not a big deal, no. S'not like he's ever had anyone call him that before— _whatever_.

"Can't help it," Niall says instead as he shrugs a shoulder. "'M not use to this kinda attention yet. I'm enjoyin' every bit of it."

"You cheeky bastard," Harry's smile grows, slowly but oh so worthwhile. It's a shame Niall will never get to see what it looks like. "I'm not corrupting you, am I?"

"Only a bit."

"Well, in that case, keep it up 'cause I quite like this side of you."

If Niall blushes harder than he ever has before, he just hopes Harry hasn't caught on yet. Hopes he can keep this little secret of his all to himself.

Niall sighs out loud, then, breathy and clear, ducking his head into his shoulder while he keeps his pace with Harry's right beside him. "Something wrong?" Harry questions, just to make sure. His tone is so caring, so kind, that Niall feels those familiar fireworks going off inside of him once again. It's like they never seem to stop.

The blond shakes his head, a gentle smile forming upon his pink lips before he even realizes he's doing so himself. "No," he states truthfully, "I'm okay, just—'m just really happy, that's all."

"Yeah?" Niall can hear Harry's grin through his words. His heart doubles in size. He's surprised it hasn't completely burst yet.

"Yeah," Niall mutters. _And it's all because of you_ , he wants to add on but figures another secret to keep his own won't matter much. Besides, he doesn't think it'd be that hard for Harry to tell, anyway. Niall's too far gone by now for him to even try to hide it.

"Good," Harry chimes, like sweet music to Niall's ears. "That makes me really happy, too."

Little does Niall know, though, that his happiness is all Harry could ever want for him. It's all he's ever hoped for. He doesn't think he'd ever want anything more.


	19. Eighteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates in one day 'cause I just couldn't help myself. I'm on a roll. Hope you like it :)

**Harry**

"Will you stay?" Niall asks him with his bottom lip captured between two rows of straight teeth while they stand side by side on Niall's front porch. Harry stares at them for a moment, starts to wonder if Niall was blessed with perfectly aligned teeth as a child or if his smile was corrected with the help of braces at one point. He makes a mental note at the back of his mind to ask about it one day; he'd like to know as much there is as possible about his favorite person. He'd like to get to know every single thing there is to know about Niall if he can. "Just for a bit?"

Harry's not sure why Niall even wants to spend more time with him. They've spent a full day together pretty much, an entire night, and now a morning, too, but he's not going to complain about it. Hell, if it were possible, he'd spend every waking moment with him, too. But maybe he shouldn't think like that so much, maybe Harry shouldn't let his obsessive side show as much as it seems to whenever he's around his blond companion. It's—it's a little weird, isn't it? And he's not—he's not like that, not. Not some kind of creepy stalker that only thinks about Niall and only dreams about Niall and only wants to talk to and hear and be around Niall and only him all the time, that's definitely not Harry at all. Maybe it is a little, to a certain extent, but no, Harry's not that kind of person. (Even though, maybe he kind of really is.)

"You want me to stay?" Harry quirks an eyebrow, smirks a bit to himself like he's just won the greatest prize there is to ever win. And, you know, maybe he has. Who's asking?

Niall's eyebrows furrow and his lips purse and his fingers tremble a little because he still gets a bit shy sometimes, Harry can tell, but it's the cutest thing ever, really, and Harry doesn't exactly mind. It's okay to be timid sometimes—everything's alright. "I mean," he licks his lips nervously, a habit Harry wishes he _really_ wouldn't do. "If you—if you want, I was just—"

"Relax, Ni," Harry chuckles, eyes crinkling at the sides. He brings a hand up, gently rubs at Niall's shoulder blade just to let him know that all is good, that there's no need to worry. "I was only kidding. Of course I'll stay if you want me to."

"I want you to."

"Then it's settled." Harry tells him. "I'll just text my mum and tell her I'll be home later."

"Okay," Niall nods before turning around, his house key ready in his hand. He hands his walking stick over to Harry, which he gladly accepts, before he reaches out to feel around in front of him. Harry watches on with curious eyes like a hawk, watches as Niall's fingers glide across the key hole before he inserts his key and turns right to get the front door open.

It shouldn't be fascinating, watching a blind man open a door on his own, Harry feels a bit bad about thinking that it is, but he can't help it. He's aware that Niall's just as capable of doing everyday things as he is himself, but, in the least judgmental way ever, it's still cool to see. And in an oddly bizarre way, Harry feels kind of proud of Niall for that. Proud because, if Niall had to, he could prove everyone who ever thought otherwise of Niall's abilities wrong. He could show people that he's just as much of a normal human being as they are, he just happens to be missing one key opponent, that's all. He's just like everyone he comes in contact with, though, and that should be the only thing that matters most.

He follows behind Niall as the other leads him into his home. It feels nice inside, warm and cozy, just like how it's always been the other times Harry's been around. "Mum? Dad?" Niall calls out, making his presence known. There's a rustic, deep voice that calls back almost immediately, which Harry can only guess is Niall's father's since it's quite obvious that his mum doesn't sound that way at all.

Harry's not sure why but he always feels nervous around Niall's parents. He assumes it's just because he's not as familiar with them as he is with his other friends' mums and dads. One day, though, he hopes. If he and Niall ever get to that point, that is.

"Hey, Ni," Niall's dad greets him, standing up from where he sits, newspaper in hand, on the sofa. He gives his son a quick hug, short but still sweet, before smiling down at him. "You're back, d'you have fun?"

"Yeah, I did," Niall gives his father a genuine smile, one that melts Harry's heart quicker than he can realize it's happening. "Is ma home?"

"No, she's out for a bit. She'll probably be back soon."

"Okay," Niall nods. "Me and Harry're gonna hang out for a while, da, is that okay?"

It's then that Mr. Horan finally looks back beyond Niall to notice Harry standing close by. Harry, shier than he normally can be sometimes, waves awkwardly at Niall's dad, feeling like his heart is about to beat right out of his chest for some odd reason that he can't explain. What the hell.

Mr. Horan nods back at Harry, gives him a little smile as well that makes him feel a bit more calm than before. "Yeah, that's fine," Niall's dad agrees without even really contemplating Niall's question at all. "I'll leave you boys to it, then."

Niall reaches behind him, Harry still holding onto his cane like he owns the thing, to grab at Harry's arm. He pulls them both forward, heading straight towards the staircase, and before Harry knows it, they're climbing the steps, one by one, and entering Niall's bedroom that's become awfully familiar to Harry in such a short period of time.

Niall closes his door behind them, striding across the floor while he focuses on removing his bag from across his back. Harry watches, still standing by the doorway, as Niall takes a seat on the edge of his bed. He watches Niall lean forward to slip the shoes he wears off of his feet, watches as he pulls the zipper on his jacket down all the way to get it open, sliding it off of his shoulders after he does so. Harry doesn't realize he's staring like the creep he claims to not be, until Niall faces his general direction, almost as if he's looking right at him and he's the only thing he sees. Harry still blushes even if that's not the case, still feels like he's been caught in the act even though he really hasn't.

"Come sit down, you git," Niall orders behind a snort, and Harry doesn't even have to think twice before striding forward with those long legs of his until he's stood beside the blond and he takes a seat at last. He takes off his shoes, too, placing them neatly next to Niall's once they're off his feet.

It's nice, finally being able to be alone with Niall. It feels like it's been days, feels like it's been too long, but maybe that's just because Harry can't stand to be away from Niall longer than a couple of hours. That's why he's come to a point where he's starting to really dread weekends now. Even though they only last two days out of the seven, weekends feel like an eternity when he's not with Niall like he is everyday at school. It's really pathetic one he takes the time to sit down and think about it, but— _fuck_ , he can't help it. He can't help the way Niall makes him feel, like he's literally gone insane, like he can't seem to function on his own unless Niall's right there by his side. And it's—it's awfully unhealthy, isn't it, to let himself live his life this way, awfully unhealthy to be so attached to one person, to let someone consume him as much as Niall has, but it's like it's the only thing he knows when it comes to Niall. It's the only way he knows how to _be_. And that's such a scary thing, it literally terrifies him knowing that this is what his infatuation with the quiet blind boy has come to, but, dammit, he doesn't know how to quit it. He just can't stop.

Holy shit, he's not coming back now, is he? There's absolutely no way he could ever come back from this feeling. It's far too late, Harry's already too far gone.

_Oh wow_.

But Niall's so beautiful, he's so innocent and naive to Harry's thoughts, and Harry wonders if Niall were to ever know what it is exactly that Harry keeps inside of his mind, how would he react? What would Niall do if he ever found out the extent of Harry's affection towards him? Harry doesn't think he ever wants to find out.

"You really had fun?" Harry questions, hopes Niall doesn't notice the way he chokes on his own words, just to get him to stop thinking about everything he's been thinking of in the last few minutes. Jesus, his mind is a whirlwind, that's for sure.

"Yes, Harry," Niall drawls out in a mocking tone, scrunching his face up in the silliest way that almost makes Harry's heart stop (thankfully it doesn't) and has him giggling in the palm of his hand like a little schoolboy running around on the playground with his classmates. "I did, s'it really that hard to believe?"

"Absolutely not, idiot," Harry gives him a playful shove. "Just wanted to make sure, is all."

"Well, just to let you know now for future reference, 'm not one to lie, Harry." And, well, Harry takes that as a good thing. That's a really good thing, he supposes. "Is that what you guys usually do when you hang out?" Niall asks Harry; his voice is filled with curiosity and his eyebrows raise just a bit once the questions comes out.

"Well, normally, we just do the usual," Harry shrugs, a small but very evident smirk forming on his lips. "Y'know, smoke a ton of pot, drink a lot of liquor, and even smuggle in a few girls if we can. But when we can't, we all just sit around, watching porn while we jerk each other off. Just typical guy things. We had to switch it up since you were around this time, though."

Niall snorts, throws his head back and lets out a cackle so loud that the sound could probably be heard from outside if anyone were close enough to be able to listen. "And you guys are just now inviting me?"

" _Shut up,_ " Harry rolls his eyes at the scoff Niall lets out from the back of his throats. In the beginning, he would've never thought Niall would turn out to be this cheeky, but there's that saying that goes a little something along the lines of not judging a book by its cover. Niall's the perfect example of that, really. He truly is.

"I've never watched porn before," Niall quietly states all of a sudden, like he's lost in his own thoughts. Harry's mouth waters, heart beating nervously in the center of his chest. "Well, in my case, _listened to_ , I guess."

"Really?" Harry asks surprised for lack of anything else better to say.

"Well, if you haven't quite noticed..." Niall trails off, pointing to the thick sunglasses that cover his beautiful eyes. "S'not like I was was ever desperate enough to ask my mum to search it up for me anyway. How awful would that be?"

Harry knits his brows together. "It's not... s'not that great anyway. Well, if you're not really into that kinda stuff it's not."

"Don't think I would be."

"Oh."

"'M not a prude, though, if that's what you're thinkin' right now." Niall tells Harry. His voice is notably Lower than it was before. "I know things."

"Do you?" Harry wants to know. He really shouldn't, though. "What kind of things?"

"I'm a seventeen year old boy, Harry. I know what a prick feels like. Well, I know what my own feels like, at least. I'm just... inexperienced, I guess."

Harry shudders. How this conversation came about, he can't even remember anymore at this point.

"What about you?" Niall inquires, turning his body Harry's way. "Have you ever... you know...?"

"Niall, I'm not telling you that, what the hell."

"And why not?" He frowns stubbornly. "I thought I was your best friend."

"You are, s'just."

"It's just what?"

"S'weird. That's all."

"It's only weird 'cause you're makin' it weird." And honestly, Harry's quite surprised that Niall doesn't find this shit weird himself. And if he does, Harry can't tell. If he does, he's damn good at hiding it.

"No," Harry finally huffs out, shaking his head even though he's completely aware that Niall can't see him doing it. "I've never, you know. I've only kissed three people... including you." He whispers the last part. He starts to recall the way that moment felt, the way his lips felt pressed up against Niall's very own not too long ago. He misses the feeling. It was way to magical to forget.

"Oh," Niall burns a bright red. Harry's not sure how he refrained from blushing this whole time until now.

"Yeah."

"Was it—were they good?"

"Yeah," Harry lifts his shoulders in the most nonchalant way. He's not a liar. Never will be, either. Can't seem to want Niall to know every little thing he possibly could about himself. Can't help that he'd tell Niall every secret of his he's ever had if it ever came down to that. "The first one was pretty decent for a first kiss. The second was a little better."

"And the third?" Niall holds his breath. Harry almost finds himself doing the same.

"The best." Harry doesn't even hesitate.

Niall's silent for a while and Harry almost feels as if he's done something wrong until their short moment of silence is interrupted again. " _Oh_." He says eventually, turning even redder than before.

"Harry?" Niall speaks up again, earning a hum from the curly headed boy in reply. "Are you... are you gay?"

If anyone were to tell Harry that him and Niall would end up having a conversation like they are now, Harry doesn't think he'd believe them. It feels weird, if he's honest, talking about this sort of thing with Niall, but it doesn't bother him. It's just a conversation between two boys that really shouldn't matter that much, which it doesn't. What they're taking about right now, it's not that big of a deal. This is what normal friends do everyday, anyway. Why should it be different for Niall and Harry at all?

"Huh?" Harry says, mostly out of complete shock, taken off guard. He makes sure to fully compose himself before he continues on, before he says anything else from this point on. "I mean, um, no I'm not. I'm not gay, no."

"Oh." Harry really wishes he would stop saying that now.

"I don't—I don't really have a preference. I just—I like people, that's how it's always been for me. The first two people I ever kissed just so happened to be girls, and I just so happened to like both of them. I've never really labeled myself as anything, though. I don't really care to, either. I'm just—I just am. I'm just Harry, just me."

"I don't think I'm gay," Niall admits out loud like it's the first time he's ever thought of this before. "I don't think I'm anything, really. I've never had people around for me to be attracted to, and I can't exactly see so how could it be possible for me to have a preference?"

"Right," Harry nods in a agreement, nods because he understands where Niall's coming from. Well, not exactly because he's never had to experience life the way Niall does and there's a slim chance he never will either, will never know what he's been through or what he will ever go through from here on out, but he gets what Niall is saying. Everything he's just told him, it makes sense.

"I've never desired anyone or anything in a romantic way, either. All I've ever wanted was somebody to talk to, just a friend to have."

Harry's heart clenches in his chest but he tries not to show how much Niall's words affect him. They do, though, they make him feel sad and sorry and horrible inside, make him feel everything all at once, and it's not the greatest feeling, no, but deep down Harry understands that what he's feeling is nothing compared to they way Niall has felt before. All Harry wants to do is be there for him, and he will, he _is_ , and if that doesn't shift his mood, he wonders what else it might take.

"And," Niall continues on as though he's never stopped, "and I think I have that now. I think I'm halfway there."

"You do," Harry states, fiercely, makes sure Niall knows it, pushes hard so that Niall knows what he has is here to stay. There's a long journey from here, too, but Harry will get him there. He'll make sure of it; he'll never leave Niall's side, he swears it. "You have me, and even Louis and Zayn and Liam now, too."

"I know," Niall faintly smiles; Harry finds it hard to look away. "Thanks for that, Harry. Honestly. I really mean it."

"There's no need to thank me." _I'd give you the world_ , the voice at the back of Harry's head says, screams, but Harry stays silent. There's so much he'd give Niall, so much he'd sacrifice for a guy like him, yet it almost feels impossible to do so. Almost feels like there's not enough hours in the day for it, but Harry isn't worried. For him, for Niall, he'd like to try. He'll give him his best and then some.

Niall falls back then, until he's lying down and his arms spread out at his sides like a starfish in the sea. His shirt rises up at the bottom, just a tad, and Harry tries not to stare at the creamy sliver of skin that peeks through underneath his clothing. Fuck, he's in trouble. He's definitely in trouble; Niall makes him feel bad, makes him want to be bad whenever he's around him, and—and it's crazy. Oh God, it's like, like Niall controls Harry's mind and his thoughts without even trying to, without even realizing what exactly he's capable of and if Harry doesn't pull himself out of this trance as soon as possible, there's no way he'll ever be able to come back up when he's under. He's pretty much already there.

And Harry stares down at Niall, contemplates what he should do next, contemplates his entire life all while sitting in the middle of the star of his infatuation's room. Who would've ever thought he'd be this far gone over a person? He can't even believe it himself.

Niall sighs like he's content with everything going on in his world. Harry notices the faint ghost of a smile sitting pretty on his lips and it makes him feel good. Like he's relaxing in the middle of paradise with his favorite person in the whole wide world is right there to keep him company all the while. It's a good life, Harry thinks. It's a great one especially when he's got Niall in it.

"Have you ever thought about something so much to the point where it's literally the only thing on your mind, 24/7?" Niall's hands rest behind his head now, legs dangling off the side of his bed still as he lays down.

"Mhm," Harry nods, hums out so Niall can hear him. He's not sure why the question came about, but he sure can relate to it. He's never related to something as much as he has now. Maybe Niall really can read his mind. He wouldn't even be surprised. "All the time."

"That's how I feel lately," Niall says, and Harry's thoughts start to roam around inside of his head like they just can't help themselves, like they just won't stop. "I can't even think about anything else. I think I'm going crazy."

Harry laughs because it's like Niall's snatched Harry's thoughts right out of his head with his own bare hands. Wow, they're kind of a lot alike if he thinks about it. "And what exactly are you thinking about then?"

Niall doesn't answer right away. In fact, he doesn't answer for so long that Harry starts to wonder if he even asked him anything in the first place. He had, though, and now he can't help but hold his breath until the words start to flow from Niall's mouth again. Harry uses this time to lay down beside Niall as well, slowly, taking his sweet time. He ends up lying on his side, arm propped up on his elbow and his palm resting underneath his chin. Niall's lips part again; Harry feels like he's been waiting forever.

"You," he finally speaks up, whispers actually, making Harry swallow down the breath of air he'd been holding in, almost choking as he does so. He licks his lips with a nervous tongue, feels like his heart is about to give up in the center of his chest. Niall lets out a breath, wonders what's to come next.

Harry doesn't realize he's leaning over until he's closer to Niall's body, until he can feel his warmth radiating in to him, until he can feel Niall's skin just barely brushing up against his own. "Will you kiss me again?" Niall pleads, breathless, like he's got no air left in him to function properly. "Please?"

Harry doesn't answer, hopes that the way he places his palm at the side of Niall's narrow waist is an answer enough on its own. Niall gasps audibly underneath him and Harry looks down to notice the rapid rise and fall of his chest. It's like his heart might beat right out of its cage, and Harry feels like his might just do the same, too. But he ignores the feeling, focuses on the burning desire to have his lips pushed up against Niall's very own for a second time again instead.

He takes his time, dipping his head painfully slow until their faces are mere inches away from each other's. Niall's mouth is parted, short breaths leave from in between that Harry can feel breezing across his skin tha send shivers straight through his spine. His heart's on fire, his skin the same, but there's nothing else he can do about it. He doesn't want to anyway. Harry uses the hand that isn't gripping Niall's waist to bring it closer to Niall's face, and when he's there, he casually slides the glass perched upon Niall's nose off until they're no longer hiding his eyes away from him. He pushes them up into his hair and removes them all together before setting them aside. He likes it better this way, wants to be as close to Niall as he possibly can without anything getting in the way.

Harry leans down, presses a short kiss upon Niall's nose while his fingers brush away some of the hair that rests upon his forehead. He can feel Niall's heartbeat now, chest to chest. The butterflies in his stomach just won't seem to rest, they'll probably never stop either.

It's not long before Harry finally stood teasing the boy underneath him, and sooner than he ever thought it'd happen again, he pushes his lips against Niall's until they're kissing like both of them have been waiting so long to do. He wastes no time swallowing down the quiet whimper that comes from the back of Niall's throat.

Oh God, Niall's mouth feels like heaven when it's connected to Harry's like this. There's no other feeling Harry's experienced in his entire life that could be better than this, that could come close. And if the first kiss they ever shared was good, if definitely couldn't compare to this one. Niall's all soft and sweet, dripping in the innocence he carries along with him. But Harry likes it; there's something about being Niall's first for everything that makes him feel a little wild.

Their tongues meet in middle and it's like a hurricane rushes throughout Harry's whole body. They kiss slowly, taking their precious time, but Harry prefers it this way the best. Likes how Niall's fingers find themselves lost in the tangles of Harry's curly hair, holding him closer and closer than they've ever been without him even noticing his own actions. Harry squeezes Niall's side as delicate as possible, like he's a fragile piece of glass that he's afraid he might break. They kiss and kiss and kiss until their lips feel numb, kiss until there's no other feeling they can remember other than the feeling of their mouths upon their own. They kiss and kiss and kiss until they find it hard to breathe, until Harry hesitantly starts to pull away. Even then he can't help but lean back in to press a few more kisses upon Niall's willing lips, making him more and more breathless with each second that passes by.

He doesn't think he'll ever get used to the feeling. Doesn't think he'll ever want this, whatever Niall and him have between them, to stop.

"Is this normal?" Niall questions with blushing cheeks and his bottom lip captured between his teeth once again.

"What?" Harry rubs his thumb across the smooth area of exposed skin where his palm still rests upon Niall's hip.

"To feel this way? To feel like this about a person?"

"How do you feel?"

"I feel..." Niall starts to say, pauses a bit in between. The suspense is killing Harry slowly. "Fantastic."

And the way Niall bursts out into a fit of laughter has Harry following right in his steps because he's pretty sure that Niall kind of contagious at this point, pretty sure he just can't help it around him. He's a lost cause now, there's no point in trying to save himself anymore. He's already fallen and he's fallen _hard_.

"Guess what?" Harry lets out between chuckles.

"What?" Niall's eyebrows raise.

"I feel the same way, too," Harry grins so wide that his cheeks start to feel numb, but he doesn't even mind. He's happy and he's even happier that Niall can be happy, too. " _Fantastic_."

"Fantastic," Niall repeats, smiling just as side like he's the literal definition of sunshine and he just can't help it. "Guess we're on the same page."

And if Harry cuts off Niall's laughter by pressing another kiss upon his glistening lips, well, neither of them mind. Knowing them, it was bound to happen again anyway. It was only a matter of time.


	20. Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To the person who asked me on twitter if I was the author of this story, if you're reading this, I'm sorry I didn't reply fast enough. I was just about to do that this morning but then I found out that you blocked me for some reason lol. I feel really bad now, I didn't mean to ignore you/wasn't planning on it either if that's what you were thinking. No hard feelings, I swear I'm not a bitch I promise :) ANYWAY, this is awkward so I hope everyone likes this chapter bye!

**Niall**

"It's shit," Harry spits out, and Niall can hear the distaste, the bitterness in his voice, pictures him rolling his eyes to the very back of his head which only makes him scoff in return because, hey, Romeo and Juliet isn't shit, alright, "It's a classic," Niall huffs, shaking his head since clearly Harry has absolutely no idea what he's talking about at all. He's got absolutely no clue.

"Ni, you can't be serious," Harry scoffs. Oh, he's serious. He's very serious and he's sticking to his word. "They knew each other for like an hour before they fell in love. Who does that?"

"But–"

"And— _and_ they both killed themselves in the end. It's not a classic, Ni, it's a tragedy."

"Okay, but it's a beautiful one. A beautiful tragedy."

Harry laughs out loud, then, has to stop himself in his tracks just to hunch over to place his hands on his knees so he can try to catch his breath. And Niall doesn't noticed he's stopped, either, still continues down the hallway with his cane guiding his way. He notices after a moment that he doesn't feel anyone by his side anymore, that he doesn't feel Harry's bicep brushing up against his like it was seconds before. He makes sure to stop as well now, facing behind him with a frown on his face. Harry catches up to him, then, once Niall's noticed, jogs a few steps ahead of himself until he's stood right by Niall's side again.

"Sorry," he pants a bit, still laughing like it's the funniest thing in the world. And it's not, but hearing Harry's bubbly laughter makes Niall want to join in, too, so he does. "It's just, I kind of really hate that book. I despised having to read it in English."

"It's not my favorite, but I don't think it's so bad." Niall pouts. "It makes me wonder what it's like to be in love. Whether you know the person for two days or two hundred, I think it's nice. I think it'd be nice to know."

Niall pretends like he doesn't hear the way Harry's breath hitches a bit when he's done with his little speech, pretends he doesn't notice to save himself from wondering what it has to mean. Instead, he changes the subject before his heart starts to beat way too fast for his liking and he's forced to take a break from life for a moment just to be able to catch up with himself. "Take me to my locker?" He asks to move along. It seems to work, too, going by the way Harry places a hand against Niall's shoulder and starts to steer him towards his desired destination.

"Y-yeah," Harry agrees, sounding breathless, but Niall forces himself to believe it's because of his little breakdown not too long ago from laughing too hard. "Okay, let's go."

When they finally get there, Niall can feel Harry's gaze on him, watching him with intense eyes as he goes to put in the code to his locker. Niall isn't sure what makes his face heat up in this particular moment, isn't sure what makes his cheeks turn red and his heart start to stutter, but really, it doesn't take a genius to figure it all out. There's only one explanation their could be for his reaction and he happens to be standing right next to him.

But Niall ignores the feeling, acts like nothing's happening, like everything's perfectly normal for his own sake, really, to save himself some embarrassment. He hands over his cane to Harry for him to hold for a second before he shrugs one of the straps of his backpack off of his shoulder. He turns the bag around until it's resting at his front, unzips it so that he can pull out the book placed inside to exchange it for the one in his locker. He puts his bag back in the correct place once he's finished, locking up his locker once again and reaching out for his cane afterwards. Their fingers brush gently against each other's and Niall pretends like his stomach doesn't flutter like the very first time when they do, pretends his skin doesn't turn another shade darker, and—he's doing an awful lot of pretending today, isn't he?

"So, we should do something this weekend if you—" Harry starts to say, just as he and Niall start to turn around to head in the opposite direction of the one they're standing in, but his words get cut off abruptly before he can even finish his sentence. It all happens kind of fast, really. First Niall hears Harry talking, asking him a question of some sort he assumes; he hears a couple of laughs from some students roaming around in the hallway around him, but that's all before he feels another body collide with his from behind, that's all before he staggers forward, trips over his own two feet in the process, and almost falls flat on his face, but luckily Harry's there to safe Niall before it got that far, luckily he's there to catch his fall.

What Harry can't save is Niall's glasses from flying off of his face and onto the cold, hardwood floors. He hears the clatter of the plastic as it hits ground, feels his cane slip out of his hand, joining his beloved sunglasses on the floor beneath where he and Harry stand.

His face is red and hot, but for an entirely different reason this time around. It's red and hot and burning with embarrassment, with the intense need to run away and hide, red and hot with the insecurity he feels within when he doesn't have his glasses there to protect him, when he doesn't have them there to shield him, to hide.

He kind of wants to cry all of a sudden, as pathetic as that sounds, but he can't help it. As of now, Harry has been the only person to witness him in such a vulnerable state like he is now, and truthfully, he'd been hoping to keep it that way. But now it's too late, and to make matters even worse, this whole commotion had happened within the hallways of his own school. There's no way for him to hide from this—there's absolutely no turning back now.

It doesn't help the situation when Harry asks him if he's okay, if he's fine, if he's hurt in any way. And if course he nods, nods and pretends as though it's not a big deal, but it is. It doesn't help the situation when he starts to hear the anger in Harry's voice when he shouts at the person who's caused this. It doesn't help the situation when Harry stands Niall upright again, when he pushes him to the side as gentle as possible until his back comes in contact with the metal lockers behind them, when his voice raises, when the words "Watch where you're going, asshole!" pour out of his mouth. "Are you fucking blind?"

And, oh God. Niall really didn't want to cry right now, has been trying to hold back his tears ever since he felt them gathering up behind his eyelids, ever since his throat started to feel tight, started to close up, but he can't possibly hold them back any longer. And he lets out a soft whimper once the first tear falls, once the tears start to stain his reddened cheeks.

"No," the person who Harry's just finished yelling at says. "But the boy behind you is, dick." Harry sucks in a harsh breath, then, hisses out a few curse words of his own once he realizes what he's just said.

"Fuck, Niall, I–"

Niall shakes his head, reaches up wipe the wetness away from his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. "I want to leave, Harry." Niall chokes out with furrowed eyes. His cheeks are a harsh pink, nose equally as blushed as he sniffs and sniffs and sniffs.

"Ni–"

"I want to go," Niall demands as firm as possible. "Take me away from here, please."

Harry doesn't think twice after that. Surged forward, picking up Niall's glasses from the ground as well as his cane, before taking the blond's hand and fulfilling his requests.

They end up in the toilets, Niall soon finds out. Harry locks the door behind them just to have a bit of privacy, and as soon as the door closes, he wastes no time at all before placing both of his palms against Niall's cheeks and dipping down closer until they're face to face, nearly nose to nose but not quite.

"Niall, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean what I said back there, I just–"

"Are my glasses okay?" Niall interrupts Harry, making the curly headed boy frown in return.

"Huh?" He lets out.

"My glasses," Niall speaks a lot slower so that Harry can catch every syllable. "Are they okay?"

"Um, I–" and Harry pulls the out in front of them, only to find that they're a bit more crooked, a bit more broken than they were beforehand. Jesus Christ. "No, no they're not," Harry announces shaking his head almost as if he's ashamed of himself. Which, it's no surprise that he kind of is right now. He deserves to be after all, especially after what just happened, especially after what he's just done. He feels like complete shit, if he's honest. And the worst part about that is knowing that Niall probably feels a lot worse. "Fuck– Niall, I'm so sorry, I swear. I'm so, so sor–"

More tears start to fall from Niall's eyes and all he wishes in this moment is that he could just push them all back into their ducts right now, wishes they would all just go away, but they don't and he can't stop himself once he's started. He huffs and he breathes I'm jerky breaths, pants and sniffs and cries and he can't stop. Everything hurts, nothing feels good at the moment; he wants nothing more than to disappear into thin air, just fade away until he's nothing but a blur, and it sucks knowing that that's pretty much impossible. What an amazing way to start off his day, right?

"Don't cry," Harry whispers, quickly reaching forward to use his thumbs to swipe away Niall's fallen tears. They fall fast—fast and heavy and hard. "You're too beautiful to cry. Please don't cry, Niall."

Niall snorts at what Harry's just told him, sputters out a silly laugh because really? Of all things Harry can say right now he chooses to say that? _What a sap_ , Niall thinks. Harry's just something else. Niall will always realize that much no matter what situation they could be in, sticky or not. "Beautiful people can cry, too, Harry."

"You're right," Harry says, attempting to sound cheerful, a light and airy chuckle escaping from between chapped, rose colored lips, but the hole in his heart gets bigger and bigger each second that passes. "Beautiful people can cry, too."

"It's okay, Harry," Niall lets him know, soft as ever, his voice beginning to feel a bit rough after all the crying he's done so far. He feels a bit drained, if he's honest. "I've got another pair at home for back up. Just in case of emergencies."

"Okay," Harry nods. He slips his hands away from Niall's face, and he feels a bit empty after that from loss of touch, but then Harry places his hands within Niall's very own and everything feels better again. "I'm still sorry, though. About what I said earlier, I shouldn't have–"

"Harry, it's–"

"Don't say it's okay, Niall, 'cause it's not." Niall feels Harry give his fingers a quick squeeze. "It's not okay. I shouldn't have said that, I didn't mean it, I swear. I just– it just came out, out of nowhere, from anger, and I know that's no excuse, but it's true. It's true and I'm sorry, Ni, I really am."

"I feel so embarrassed, Harry," Niall's lips start to quiver, chest starts to feel tight again with the urge to cry and cry and cry until his eyes are dry and he's got nothing left.

"I know, sweetheart," Harry sighs, pulls Niall in and jets his head rest against his chest, wraps his arms around his slim frame and holds him in a warm embrace. "I know, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Ni."

The first bell of the morning rings all of a sudden, making Niall jump a little in Harry's arms. "Shh, it's okay," Harry assures him, cards his fingers through the hairs at the nape of Niall's neck to get him to relax.

"I don't want to go to class anymore. I want to go home."

Niall knows he shouldn't be skipping class, knows he's going to be in so much trouble by his parents if he does, but he doesn't care anymore. He doesn't care what his parents will say, doesn't care what anyone else will think, doesn't care about anything at the moment because he's already had enough of today and nobody's going to tell him otherwise.

And he's somewhat surprised when harry actually agrees with him, when Harry actually nods and says "Okay," and doesn't even seem to process what Niall's even asking if him before he automatically agrees to it like someone's just asked if he wanted a million dollars. And wow, if that doesn't set Niall's heart on fire, if that doesn't set the butterflies in his tummy off on a complete rampage, he's not sure if he's ready to see what will. And his heart kind of grows twice the size, he kind of forgets everything in the moments just so he can focus on him and Harry and nobody or nothing else in between.

"Okay?" Niall questions in complete shock but he never lets Harry go. Never, not in a million years.

"Okay," Harry confirms and that's the end of it. "Whatever you want."

And, fuck, no one's ever told him anything like that before. He kind of likes it—actually really, _really_ likes it.

"Please don't ever do that again, Harry," Niall begs softly, pushes his lips out into a small pout, sniffing away the last bit of his tears. "Please don't say things you don't mean."

"I won't," Harry wastes no time promising, doesn't wait a second in between. "I swear I won't. I'm sorry, Niall. I promise I'll never do that again."

"And don't call me sweetheart again," Niall mumbles as one last request into Harry's chest, into the fabric of his sweater and smiles when he feels Harry hold him closer, when he feel him hold him tight. Nothing feels better than this. "Makes me feel weird."

"Alright," Harry chuckles, presses a firm kiss onto Niall's temple, onto his cheek, and just like that Niall feels that much better. Just like that, he knows that everything between them is going to be okay.


	21. Twenty

**Harry**

The cool air nips at Harry's skin, bites Harry's nose and turns it red, red, red, tickles his body, making him shiver where he's sat down on a bench in the middle of a park. Niall's right next to him, obviously unbothered by the slight chill in the wind, but then again he's used to the feeling. Harry remembers him telling him how he liked the cold, said he liked it because it reminded him of the fact that he could still feel. Harry pulls the beanie that covers his hair, that covers his ears with a thick fabric, down further, almost as if he's attempting to get as much warmth out of the hat as he possibly can.

And, if it weren't for Niall, he probably wouldn't be sitting outside right now. Actually, he definitely wouldn't be, but the thing is, it's Niall, and whatever Niall wants, Harry would give it to him, no questions asked.

Just like Niall wanted, just like he asked, they end up ditching school for the day. Harry's skipped class before, not often, but he's done it. Louis had bribed him into doing so a couple of years back, and after begging and whining for what seemed like literal hours, Harry had finally given in. And it'd been fun that day, even funner having Lou around. They'd gotten in trouble by their parents afterwards, though, Harry got grounded for a whole two weeks, but it was worth it in the end, believe it or not. Niall on the other hand, Harry knows he's never done a thing like this before, and knowing that puts him on edge for certain reasons. He's aware of how strict Niall's parents can be, how hard they can be on him, especially his mum, and he just doesn't want Niall to suffer the consequences once they find out. Because they will, of course they are, and Harry's absolutely dreading for that time to come.

Much to his surprise, though, Niall's awfully calm for someone whose parents have such a tight leash on him, for someone who's disobeying the rules for the fest time in his life, pretty much. One would think Niall would be the one sweating bullets, would think he'd be the one scared shitless for his life at the moment, but it's Harry who feels that way instead. The whole situation is just bizarre, if you ask him.

They decided to spend a bit of time at a local park a few streets away from school upon Niall's request of wanting to 'sit and feel the breeze for a while'. They haven't had much conversation between the two of them since they've arrived; Harry's spent too much time already going over what might happen once their parents find out later on, and Niall's been too busy basking in on his new found "freedom", enjoying this new experience way too much for it to be considered normal.

"Harry, relax," Niall says around an easy smile. Harry shivers once a new breeze passes by, wrapping his arms around his body for warmth. "If I get in trouble, I'll be the one to blame. No big deal."

"I'm not worried about either of us having to take the blame," Harry's teeth chatter while he talks. Jesus, did it get even colder out here? "I just don't want you to get in trouble. I know how your parents can be."

Niall scoffs, and it shouldn't be funny the way Niall attempts to roll his eyes, the way he tries but it doesn't quite happen how it should, and it's not funny to Harry in a bad way, no, but it's funny because he finds it cute. Funny because it's nice being able to see Niall without his barrier their to shield him, to hide him away when he shouldn't ever be hidden. His beauty should never have to be masked. He still feels bad about Niall's glasses breaking, though, but in a way he's kind of thankful. Thankful because Niall trusts him enough to let him see him this way, and that really says something to Harry. It actually means a whole lot.

"I mean, yeah, my mum might ban you from ever seeing me again, but I don't think she'll be _that_ bad."

" _Niall_ ," Harry whines, pouts his lips like a child. He's not sure what he'd do if things ever came down to that, not sure how he'd react, how he'd go on without being able to see Niall whenever he wanted to. God, it even hurts too much to think about. It's a scary thought that Harry never wants to have ever again. "Don't say things like that."

"Don't worry," Niall gives a sly smirk. It's a miracle that Harry's still alive to this day especially when Niall's in his life. "I'd make sure to find out a way to see you again."

Harry tries to ignore the way his heart starts to swell in his chest, ignores the butterflies that flutter in his stomach and focuses on trying not to squeal out loud from Niall's words. He's so gone for, it's not even funny anymore.

"You're such a bad influence on me, I swear." Harry shakes his head in disbelief. It's a good thing Niall can't see the blush that's taken over his entire body now. Suddenly, he doesn't even notice the cold around him anymore. He's much too warm from the thought of _NiallNiallNiall_ on his mind.

" _Hey_ ," Niall feigns offended. The grin forming on his face tells Harry otherwise, though. "If anything _you're_ a bad influence on _me_. You're the one who let us go through with the whole skipping class thing."

"Only because you wanted to," Harry shrugs, and Niall feels the movement, too, since they're pressed up against each other closer than necessary at the moment, thighs and arms pressed together as if they're one body. "I felt bad after what happened."

"Besides, I'm blind," Niall coughs into his fist like he's sick, as if that has anything to do with but being able to see. What a knob. "People are always going to take my word for it out of sympathy. You're always gonna look like the bad influence just because of that. Maybe you should cut your leg off or something so you can get the same special treatment."

"You know," Harry snorts out a silly laugh. "You've got quite the personality for a person like you. I would've never expected it."

"A person like me?" Niall screws his eyebrows together, pursing his lips.

"I just mean, like, you're really quiet and reserved. I wouldn't have pictured you being this way if I didn't already know you."

Harry starts to think back to before he and Niall ever crossed paths; he thinks back to what life was like before he accidentally bumped into Niall in the hall that one day, before he made the unexpected decision to accompany him during lunch, before the two became best friends, maybe even a bit more, and he honestly can't remember. He can't remember what his life was like without Niall in it, can't picture being without him now that he's here, either. Because Harry hopes Niall's here to stay, hopes they'll never leave each other's sides because he's not exactly sure who he'd be, what he'd do, how he'd go on if Niall wasn't around. It's such a strong feeling to have, kind of scary when Harry thinks about how much Niall's consumed of him so fast, but it's all worthwhile, he thinks. Everything they do, every conversation they have, every touch they share is all worth it at the end of the day. Harry doesn't see how it could be otherwise.

Niall takes Harry by surprise when he slips his arms around Harry's lean waist underneath the jacket he wears all of a sudden, when he rests his head upon Harry's shoulder and stays there with a barely noticeable smile upon his lips. Harry doesn't get a chance to question his antics, though, seeing as Niall's already beat him to it. "I'm glad I know you," Niall sighs in content— _happily_. Harry suddenly feels like he needs to catch his breath.

And Harry wraps an arm around Niall's shoulders, pulling him in even closer than he already is, as if that's even possible. "Me too," he agrees, and why wouldn't he? Meeting Niall has probably been one of the greatest moment in his life. He's not sure if anything could top it.

***

"I didn't know you had a basement," Niall mentions in awe for some reason like it's actually the coolest thing in the world. (It's not, really, but Harry's going to let him have his fun anyway.)

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me, Horan."

"Mhm," Niall hums sarcastically. "Like what?"

"Like..." Harry tries to think of something quick. "Like, my middle name. You don't know that."

"Okay. What is it, then?"

"What's yours?"

"I asked you first."

" _Niall_."

" _Harry_."

Isn't it just the greatest thing being able to tease Each other like this? Harry thinks so. In fact, he quite enjoys it a lot.

Niall starts to pout grumpily, folds his arms across his chest like a stubborn kid and refuses to do anything else until he gets an answer out of Harry. Which of course Harry's going to give it to him. He doesn't even have to pretend otherwise, either. The whole planet probably knows that anyway.

"Fine," he sighs dramatically, but it's all in good fun. "It's Edward. My middle name is Edward."

"Aw," Niall coos for whatever reason that may be, and of course Harry blushes like crazy, of course he does, but then again what's new? "That sounds so proper."

"You're an idiot," Harry may roll his eyes and he may scoff a bit because Niall is an actual idiot, it's true, but he likes that—likes how fun and whacky and cool Niall can be—and he only does things for Niall out of affection, out of admiration, in the fondest ways because that's what he feels for Niall; he's head over heels for him, gone without a trace, smitten beyond words, but it's true and everything he feels is real and he can't help but want more and more and more.

He wants everything, really. Wants to hold Niall's hand (not like they don't already do that, but still), wants to kiss him whenever he wants without having to ask for it, wants to be there for him everyday, day in and day out, wants to cuddle him at his lowest times or whenever he's in the mood for it. He wants to hug him and touch him and just _be with_ him because nothing sounds better than that, nothing else in this giant world they live in and that—wow, that really says a lot. But Harry's known for wanting a lot when it comes to Niall, and he doesn't think that's going to change anytime soon.

And they're sitting in Harry's basement, the one Niall was totally unaware even existed until now, 'cause his mum works 'till late tonight and it's only midday so school isn't over yet and they needed a place to go that wasn't the park anymore, needed a place to crash until the school day actually ended and Niall had to head back home. (Which Harry is completely terrified for that moment to come but he's going to ignore the feeling for his sake, to spare him the unnecessary anxiety). And they're sitting in Harry's basement, side by side like always, and Harry can't help but think about what it'd be like if they ever got to that point, if they ever got to be something _more_.

"Mine is James," Niall tells Harry. "My middle name. It's not as proper sounding as yours, though."

"It could be if you wanted it to," Harry smiles a bit. Smiles because being around Niall is so easy yet it feels so good and pure and better than any and everything in the world. Niall's the kind of person that makes you smile, the kind of person that makes you wanna smile until your cheeks hurt and never stop. "You and Liam share a middle name, by the way."

"Really?" Niall raises his eyebrows, facing frontwards while Harry faces his side, staring at Niall's side profile like he's the most beautiful person he's ever seen. He kind of is, too. "That's cool."

Harry nods, leaning back until his back meets up with the sofa they both sit upon. "Yeah," he agrees.

"Tell me something about yourself, Harry," Niall mutters. "Something I don't know, something you've never told me."

"Like what?" Harry furrows his eyebrows. He's not exactly good at this kind of thing. "What do you want to know."

"I don't know. Anything. Tell me anything you'd like and I'll tell you something back."

"Okay," he says because he'll take any opportunity there is thrown his way of it means he'll get to learn more about Niall than he already does. "Um, I... I kind of have four nipples?"

And that's it before Niall sputters out a laugh, a loud cackle that has his eyes crinkling shut and has him throwing his head back until it hits the sofa they sit upon and clutching at his stomach from laughing way too hard. _Oh wow, he is beautiful_ , Harry thinks. So effortlessly beautiful. "What?" Niall shrieks. "How do you _kind of_ have four nipples?"

"I mean, well," Harry can't help but giggle because Niall's laugh is kind of contagious, and well, why not? "They're not exactly real, like, genuine nipples, they just look like them."

"Oh my gosh," Niall continues to chuckle like his life depends on it. "You're absolutely nutters, Harry. I can't believe I actually like you as much as I do."

And—okay, oh wow, that's—that's new. That's completely new and Harry has no idea how to respond to that. What is he even supposed to say? Thank you? I like you, too? Did Niall even mean it in _that_ way, in the way that Harry thinks he did, the way Harry feels himself, or was it just in a friendly, totally platonic and nothing more way? Oh God, Harry's never been so conflicted in his entire seventeen years of living. _Oh God_ , Harry's never been so utterly almost-in-love-but-not-exactly with someone in his entire life. What the hell is he meant to do?

It doesn't help that Niall gives off no clues himself, either. He's the same as he always is, the same as he was moments before, and Harry's still just as lost, if not even more so now. _Fucking hell_.

"I'm pretty good at playing the guitar," Niall continues on like he hasn't just said the most heart wrenching (in a good way, of course) sentence Harry's ever heard him say, like Harry wasn't just about to have a full on strike trying to decipher what exactly he meant by those words.

"What?" Harry gasps a bit in shock. And not because he's shocked that Niall's capable of doing something like that, 'cause he's not, he's seen it before, but shocked that he's just now finding out about this. "How come I never knew about this?"

"Because," Niall states. "'Cause I don't play as much anymore. I used to, a lot, but I haven't played in a while."

"Why not? What if you forget?"

"It's quite hard to forget, Harry," Niall snickers s but to himself. "It's like riding a bike—no matter how long you go without doing it, you still remember how once you do. You can't really forget."

"That's so cool, Ni," Harry says in awe, says like it's actually the coolest thing ever, like it's actually the coolest thing ever. "I've always wanted to learn but I never got around to it. I think I've got sticky fingers, anyway."

"I could teach you," Niall blurts out and Harry's heart almost stops, but somehow, _somehow_ , he manages to keep it going. "The learning process is kind of difficult sometimes but it's really fun. I learned when I was like ten. My parents thought it would be good for me to have something to invest my time into since it was harder for me to make friends as a kid. I'm glad they got me to learn, though. It can be good for taking your mind off things and whatnot."

"Why don't you play anymore?" Harry questions softly. And when did he move closer to Niall? When did they end up leaning into each other, closer than before? Harry doesn't recall doing so. Maybe they're like magnets. Maybe it's hard for them to stay away from each other because they're so attracted to one another. _Wow_.

"I don't know," Niall sighs, but Harry knows there's more to the story than he's letting out. "I used to get sad a lot sometimes. I'd feel so lonely that not even playing could keep my mind off of it. Because that what I'd do when my head got to be too much, I'd play. I think that's how I got so good at it. Which really shocked me when I was younger because I thought I wouldn't be able to do anything normal without help. But it was the one thing I was good at, that I knew for sure I was.

"I don't get as sad anymore, though, as I used to, if you're wondering. I mean, I still do, I still think too much, more than I should, but I think I'm getting better."

Harry doesn't know what to say. It's like he's at a loss for words, like he's physically incapable of speech anymore now that Niall's just poured all that out to him. He's never said so much, never told Harry so much about himself in one sitting before. When he does tell something about himself, it's never this much at once, usually little by little over time, but Harry isn't complaining. He appreciates Niall for this, admires that he's had the courage to tell him what he has, and Harry's grateful for it, he really is. He's so glad Niall trusts him as much as he does, glad he trusts him enough to jet him in.

"It's different now why I don't play as much anymore, I suppose," Niall goes on when Harry doesn't respond.

"Why is it different?" Harry finally manages to say.

"Because," Niall starts to smile, small but still very much visible enough for Harry to notice. "I think I've been way too distracted lately. I don't have time to focus anymore."

"And what's got you so distracted?" And if Harry holds his breath while he awaits Niall's answer, well nobody else has to know. It's his little secret to keep.

Niall breathes in, breathes out so effortlessly, not even waiting a whole beat to answer before he says, "You."

And that's really it for Harry. It's the last and final straw for him, the last one before all hell breaks loose and he feels even crazier, even more insane than he's already been feeling whenever he's around Niall. " _Oh God,_ " Harry groans, screws his eyes shut so tight that he starts to see colors swirling behind his eyelids. He cards his fingers through the hair at his roots, pulling firmly out of pure frustration before leaning back and letting his head fall back onto the sofa where they sit.

He feels absolutely insane, so mad, so gone that he can't even explain the way he feels right now. His heart is on overdrive, his mind racing to the ends, and still all he sees is Niall and all he hears is Niall and all he thinks about is Niall and only Niall and it's so much, so vivid in his mind, that he feels like it's all he knows. But it's so good, it's so worth it, it is, being so infatuated with a overdo like Niall that he doesn't even care if he's crazy, doesn't even care if he's mad because he's mad for Niall and he wouldn't ever want anything else.

"Are you okay?" Niall asks worriedly, looking scared as ever. And Harry kind of wants to laugh, kind if wants to chuckle until he can't stop, but he refrains from doing so. He'd really look crazy then if he ever did that. "Did I say something wrong?"

"No, no," Harry quickly dismisses Niall's thought, frantically shakes his head even though he's aware that Niall can't see him. "No, Niall, you didn't, you just— _God_ , you drive me _so_ crazy. I don't know what to do."

This time, Niall's the one at a loss for words. "Oh." He mutters quietly.

"You make me feel like such a madman, Ni, I can't keep up."

"I'm sorry—"

"No," Harry finds it so hard not to scream it out loud. "It's not a bad thing, it's a—it's so good. It's a good thing, okay?"

"Okay," Niall nods like he understands, but then he's confusing Harry, taking him by surprise when he bursts out into a fit of laughter, when he laughs so hard and so loud to the point where he finds himself clutching at his stomach just to keep it all in.

"Are you—are you laughing at me, Niall?" Harry's lips start to twitch because it's physically impossible to not smile around Niall. It's like it'd be a crime if you didn't.

"'Course not," Niall may say, but his continuous giggles say otherwise.

"Well stop it," Harry tries not to laugh himself. It's so hard not to, though. "Stop laughin' at me."

"And why should I do that?"

"'Cause," Harry lowers his voice, taking in Niall's features one by one as he looks his way, admires his beauty like he just can't get enough of it. (He can't.) "Because it's making me want to kiss you."

And Niall stops, then, stops laughing, stops smiling so wide to the point where it looks like it actually hurts. He stops altogether, going completely serious when he says, "Then do it." And that's enough for Harry, really. It's enough for him to push himself forward without any hesitation, with no second though at all. It's enough for Harry to forget everything, to crawl over and climb his way into Niall's space until they're nothing but NiallandHarry, no space in between, lips locked in the middle and hearts exploding in the middle of their chests like it's just the norm to feel this way around a person, which it is; for them it is.

And Harry places both palms at the sides of Niall's face, cupping his cheeks, and Niall's arms fly up to wrap themselves around Harry's waist, and that's all, really. They kiss each other like it's the last chance they'll get to before the entire world ends, kiss like they've never kissed before—wildly and needy but so, so worth it. They kiss like they mean it, as if they're trying to display what they feel for each other through the gentle press of their mouths, and Harry just hopes he gets his point across through the way he pulls Niall in, the way he holds him tight, the way he kisses his favorite boy with just as much passion for him as he's got inside, and he thinks he's done it, hopes he's shown Niall everything he's ever wanted him to know in this one little kiss. And maybe he has. If the way Niall responds to him is anything to go by, it seems as though Harry's fulfilled his wish.


	22. Twenty-one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oh my gosh, it's been like 3 weeks since I last updated, which I'm so sorry about. writers block is seriously the worst thing in the planet especially when you know you want to write something but the words just won't come out, ugh! anyway, I kind of have an idea of how I want the next chapter to go so I'm going to start writing that like right after I get this uploaded. If things go as planned I will probably update later on today, and if things go as planned I think you guys are really going to like the next chapter ;) I hope you guys like this one, so sorry for the wait!

**Niall**

Niall's first instinct the minute he steps foot inside his home after having experienced one of the most crazy (according to him) days of his life is to run. His first thought the minute he hears his mother's stern voice, a bit irritated and controlling but with a hint of disappointment laced within her syllables, is to turn back around and run back to Harry and convince him that it'd be better off if the two hide out again for the rest of the day, because even though he'd been quite calm about everything beforehand, even though he hadn't been the one freaking out about the outcome initially even though he really should have been, he's definitely doing it now. His stomach drops a bit when he hears his mother call out his full name, guts churn once the " _Niall James Horan_ ," is let out into the open, when she asks him, "Would you like to tell me what exactly you've been up to today?"

And if he wasn't nervous before, if he hadn't been scared then, he definitely is now. He's never been on _real_ trouble before, has never done anything worth getting chastised for other that the minor things he used to get called out for when he was younger. But this, the whole skipping school thing, that's new. He's beget done anything like that before, has never had anyone around to do those kinds of things with until now, so he's not sure what's to come next exactly. He's not entirely sure how things are going to play out from her on out, not sure what all his mother will do or say.

He takes in a deep breath, fingers slightly shaking around the cane he holds tightly between his fingers.

"I–" he starts off even though he has no idea what he would've said just then, but he doesn't get the chance to say anything before his mum cuts him off to speak again.

"Do you know how worried I was about you?" His mother almost shouts, but she sounds concerned more than anything else. "I got a call from your school telling me you were absent today – where were you?"

"I left..." Niall mumbled underneath his breath, afraid to speak up any louder than he is now. And now that he thinks of it, he's kind of ashamed of his actions in a way, kind of ashamed that what he did got this kind of reaction out of his mum, hut he doesn't regret it, he doesn't regret a single thing. Because besides this being on of his most memorable days, this is also something he's never experienced before, and in a way this is just something to cross off of his metaphorical list. Not that he was keeping one anyway, but still. It's always nice to try something new in his case, no matter what it is.

"You left," Niall's mother repeats like she can't believe what her son had just told her. "And who did you leave with? Actually, don't answer that because me and you both know that we already know the answer to that."

And Niall kind of freezes because, even though it was quite obvious that Harry was involved, he still doesn't want him to be apart of this. Because this entire thing – this was all Niall's idea, it was all him, so if anyone should take the blame it should be him. It's only fair, he feels. "I'll be having a word with Harry's mother about this later on as well," his mum adds on, and well, that much was inevitable, really. Just like everything else in his life.

"Did he put you up to this Niall? Was this his idea?"

"What?" Niall asks incredulously. "No – no he didn't, mum, I promise."

He hears his mother sigh out loud, hears the quiet noise of exasperation she lets out, and he never thought he'd say this, but he's kind of glad he's lost his ability to see in this very moment. He'd hate to witness the look on his mum's face right now, doesn't think anyone would actually want to, if he's honest.

He can feel his mother coming closer to him then, and as soon as she's stood before him she places a gentle hand on his shoulder, keeping it there as she speaks. "I know," she breathes in, almost as if she's preparing herself for what she's about to say to Niall. "I know that Harry is your friend, and I'm glad that he can be that for you, I truly am, but just think about the choices you make from here on out, okay? I'm not upset with you, Ni, I can't be angry anymore, but you really worried be today, alright? I know I do that a lot, more than I need to, and I know that you don't really like that, but sometimes I can't help it. Not knowing what you were doing or where you were didn't really help my constant worrying about you at all."

"'M sorry," Niall murmurs softly, head hung low. Which he is, sorry that is, but at the same time he's kind of not. He is because as much as he complains about how protective his mother is over him, that doesn't mean that he doesn't feel bad about it sometimes. But then again, that's the thing – he doesn't feel sorry because this is the way he is, take it or leave it, is disability isn't going to change and that's one thing he wishes him mum could understand. It's okay to worry, it's okay to be cautious, but there's a difference between hovering and caring, and he'd like to let his mother know that, would like to tell her exactly how he feels, but for some reason he just can't. He can't and he's not sure what to do about it yet.

He kind of wishes Harry were here at the moment all of a sudden. Kind of wishes Harry was standing right there by his side, holding his hand, whispering in his ear that everything is going to be okay, calming him down and making sure he's alright like Harry normally does whenever they're around each other. But they're not – sadly, Harry isn't here although Niall wants nothing more in the world than for him to be, he's just not, and that's okay, Niall tries to tell himself. He should be okay doing this on his own, doesn't always need Harry by his side like he thinks he does. (Except, you know, maybe he wouldn't exactly mind if he was, either.)

"Are you going to tell me what happened?" His mother's hand squeezes his shoulder a bit. But Niall doesn't say anything, only shakes his head because he's not going to tell her what happened, not going to let her know why he made the decision to leave school before his first class initially started even though he's completely aware that she knows something is up, he's just not going to. He doesn't really want to. "Why not?" She continues, trying to keep her voice calm and inviting.

"I don't want to talk about it." And when Niall makes up his mind about something, when he doesn't want to do something, it's very hard to persuade him, very hard to steer him in another direction when something is already set in stone for him. Well, except if your name happens to be Harry Styles; for some reason, Niall just can't say no to the guy.

"Ni–"

"Can I go to my room now? Please?"

With another sigh, his mum finally agrees. She nods, removes her hand from her son's shoulder, and Niall takes that as a yes, wasting no more time before heading towards the staircase and going straight to his bedroom to hide out for the rest of the evening. It's been such a long, eventful day, but everything is okay. Even if it doesn't feel so okay I'm the moment, he knows it will be. Niall knows he'll be fine.

***

"Niall, where are your glasses?"

Usually, there's a quick 'hi' that comes from his best friend whenever he greets him when they see each other first thing in the morning, but today is different. Today is different because Niall's missing a part of him that Harry is so used to seeing at this point that it almost feels weird in a way to see him like this. Harry isn't used to seeing Niall without the shield he uses to protect himself in a way, that he uses to hide behind everyday, but that doesn't mean seeing him so open and so bare doesn't bring a little smile to his face because it does even if it is an odd sight to see, but Harry likes it, he doesn't exactly mind at all.

"I left them at home," Niall shrugs like it's no a big deal, but in actuality it is, to him it is and he still feels so self conscious about it, but he's trying. He's trying and that's all that matters.

"Why?" He feels Harry moving in closer, close enough that their thighs rub together in between their bodies, and Niall likes it this way the most, almost feels whole, almost feels complete having Harry right there by his side.

"Do you want me to put them back on?" There's a bit of an attitude hidden in his tone that he's not used to hearing himself, but he just can't help it. He's already nervous enough about the entire situation, already feels like he can't handle going the rest of the day like this, already feels on edge like he's on the verge of a breakdown, but there's no turning back at this point. He hadn't really thought this through enough, but there's nothing else he can do about it now.

"No!" Harry quickly dismisses Niall's words, reaching out to place a hand above his knee that makes shivers run up and down Niall's spine. "No, I just – you're beautiful. I like that I get to see you."

" _Harry_."

"No, Niall, I'm serious," Harry insists in a way that makes Niall want to believe him. And he does – he knows he can trust Harry's word because he's honest and he's always been honest around Niall even at times when he's felt the least secure in himself. He's so grateful to have someone like Harry in his life now. Honestly, he's not sure how he was ever able to live without him before now. "You're absolutely beautiful and I mean that, I really do."

And there's a soft hand that's kind of cool to the touch from the crisp air that blows around them reaching out to cusp the underside of Niall's jaw, that makes him forget about everything in the world altogether and let's him focus only on Harry and no one else but him. Harry runs his thumb along Niall's cheeks, finger just barely grazing the surface of his skin, and it's a nice feeling, a feeling that has Niall melting into his touch as if it's just natural for him to do so. Which it is; at this point, it's only right.

"Your hand is cold, Harry," Niall chooses to say in this moment for lack of anything better to announce. His heart, though, it's pounding rapidly in his chest like it can't stop, but when is it ever not around Harry?

Niall hears a smile in Harry's voice when he replies, "But I thought you liked the cold, Niall."

"You know, there's always room for change."

"I can see."

Niall lets out a quiet, shaky huff, nervous folding his hands together in his lap. "Can we– can we not make a big deal about this? About the whole..." he gestures to his eyes and lack of sunglasses with his fingers. "I don't want it to be a big thing, okay?"

"Okay," Harry doesn't hesitate to agree, which is something Niall notices he does a lot. He never questions Niall's antics, never tries to make him do anything different, always lets him set his own pace and go at his own speed, and that's something Niall's never been given a lot of in his life: control. But Harry – oh, Harry's something different. He's new to Niall, but he's the best and Niall will never, ever be more thankful than he is now. He doesn't think he'll ever get anything better than Harry from here on out – he's already got the best. "Wait, what are we not making a big deal about? I don't even know because it's not even a big deal."

"You're such an idiot," Niall cackles, laughs out loud like the bright person he is inside before letting himself slump over to the side until his head rests upon Harry's shoulder.

"Well then, that makes you more of an idiot for liking me."

And it's true, Niall supposes. At least that's how he feels when he's around Harry, like a complete idiot, but in the best way possible. He doesn't mind being an idiot, anyway. As long as he's an idiot for Harry, he doesn't care what he is. "I guess," he ends up saying, but that's an understatement. There's no guessing now, he's one hundred percent in the know.

His heart continues to race when Harry slips and arm around his shoulder just to hold him that much closer, his mind jumbles and his insides jitter and his skin tingles with happiness when Harry uses his free hand to lace his fingers in the spaces between Niall's very own, and the whole world is forgotten by now. All Niall can think about is Harry and nothing else but him, but he's used to this by now. And at this point, he wouldn't have it any other way. At this point, it can only get better, he feels. He can't hardly wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow my tumblr, [narry-bomb](http://narry-bomb.tumblr.com/), let's talk about narry or this story or whatever you'd like, idk
> 
> thanks for being so patient with this story, I really appreciate it!


	23. Twenty-two

**Harry**

It's Thursday night and Harry really should've started on his homework hours ago – he's got an English quiz the next day that he should be studying for, too, but his mind's just way too clouded to try and concentrate at the moment, but he thinks he'll be alright in the end since he's quite good at the subject so he's sure not studying this one time won't harm him in any way – but instead he's got his phone pressed up against his ear with Louis on the other line while he's slumped down on top of the bean bag placed next to his bed. It's a little over 9 PM now, the skies have just finished darkening and in just a few short hours he'll be making his way to bed, but he's not sure if sleep will come easily to him tonight, especially after having the conversation he currently is with Louis.

There's so much on his mind at the moment, so much he's trying to calculate, so much he's trying to organize within that head of his while attempting to focus on the words Louis is telling him, but it's just so hard. His mind has been racing a lot these past few days, and now that he's finally talking to someone about it all, about everything he's been thinking about lately, maybe this is his chance to come to some sort of conclusion at last. Maybe this time he'll actually fully come to terms with what he wants and actually be able to do something about it.

The thing is, though, that's a huge step for him to take. The thing is, he's actually really terrified – he's never been more scared in his entire life. But is it worth it to him? One hundred percent. He'd never think otherwise.

"So," Louis chimes once again before repeating what they've already been through multiple times already just so that he can make sure what he's heard so far is in fact correct. Maybe he's in disbelief; Harry doesn't exactly blame him. "You mean to tell me that you both like each other, you hold hands, you _kiss_ sometimes, but you still haven't done anything about it yet?"

And Harry groans out loud, rolls over until his face is squished up against the bean bag he lies upon, because when Louis puts it like that, it makes him sound so pathetic, makes him feel like he's just wasting his time when he could have something more by now, when he can have something he's wanted for so, _so_ long. "Well I – I mean, I _think_ he likes me, too. Like, I'm pretty sure he does, it's just–"

"Shut up," Harry pictures Louis rolling his eyes once he hears the tone of his voice. "Of course he likes you, you idiot. People don't kiss and hold hands with people if they don't have some sort of liking towards him. Besides, it's quite obvious that he does – he never leaves your side."

"I'm his only friend, of course he does."

"Okay," Louis scoffs. "Liam, Zayn, and I have all welcomed him in. We might not be as close to him as you are, but I'm sure if he wanted to, he'd make the effort to be around us, too."

"But he's comfortable around me, he's not as comfortable with you guys."

"He _likes_ to be around _you_. If he could see, I'm one hundred and eighty million percent sure he'd never look at anything else."

That – that right there kind of warms Harry's heart. If other people notice Niall's feelings for him, then it must be true, right? It has to be, but there's just something at the back of his mind telling him otherwise, something that tries to steer him in the opposite direction even though he already knows the truth. Well, he has an inkling, he supposes. He'll never know for sure unless Niall tells him. He has a feeling, though, he'll probably have to be the one to beat him to it.

"Why don't you just ask him out?"

Harry swears he feels his eyes about to bulge rift out of their sockets, but thank God they don't. That would really be one awful mess to clean up. "What do you mean 'ask him out'? Like – like on a date?"

"I guess," Harry can practically see Louis shrugging from the other side of the phone. He knows him all too well, really. "I have a feeling he's not really the dating type, though. I think you should just go for the bigger picture and f–"

"Louis!"

"What? I was going to say finally ask him to be your boyfriend. Jesus."

Harry pretty much forgets everything they've ever talked about up until now after that. He can't – he can't do that. He can't ask Niall to be his... you know what. He's never been anyone's boyfriend before, let alone asked someone to be his – he's got no clue about anything like that at all. And besides, what if Niall doesn't want to be that to him? What if Niall doesn't _want_ anything more? He's not ready to be humiliated just yet. He doesn't want to be let down. Not that he wouldn't want that at all, because honestly, now that the idea has been suggested to him, the term does sound kind of nice. In fact, it sounds amazing and now that he's heard it out loud, he's never wanted anything more.

He's thought about it a lot; though my about being something more with Niall than he already is, thought about being able to hug and kiss and touch and be around him whenever he wanted, but he's never actually called Niall his boyfriend in his head. He wants that, though. As scared and nervous as he is, God, he's never wanted something so bad in his entire life.

He's fucked. He's so fucked, but he's used to it by now. He's been fucked ever since that day he accidentally bumped into Niall that one morning in the hallway. He's never been the same way since.

"I..." Harry breathes in before breathing out again, not knowing exactly what he wants to say just yet. His mind is all over the place, but the one thing that stays constant is the thought of Niall. It's always been that way. "I– I want that. God, I want him in any fucking way I could possibly have him, but I– I don't know what to do."

"Listen, Niall's easygoing, right?"

Harry frowns, pondering the question for a moment before he answers. "Um, I mean, I guess so."

"So then there's really nothing you should be worrying about, then. It doesn't have to be some sort of extravagant event, just go for it. Just– just do whatever feels right."

Louis can be a goofball ninety percent of the time, he can be a proper ass that doesn't always take life so seriously, but when he needs to, he gives some of the best advice Harry's ever received before, and that's some of the things Harry loves most about his best friend. He's funny, loves to have a good time, but he's always there for you when you need him most. And right now, Harry isn't sure where in this world he'd be without Louis. Just thinking about not having him around one day doesn't feel right.

"Yeah, okay," Harry nods to himself, finds a smile forming slowly upon his lips without him even realizing it. "Just go for it, I can do that."

"You better," Louis tries to sound stern but it just doesn't work out quite right. "I was starting to think the world would end before you finally made a move. Seriously, Harry, what's taken you so long?"

Harry's going to assume that's a rhetorical question since he's already explained to Louis pretty much everything at this point, so he doesn't answer it. "Whatever," what he says instead, but he's still so grateful for Louis regardless. "Thanks, though. Really, thanks a lot."

"Yeah, yeah," Louis brushes Harry off, but deep down he knows Louis is basking in pride right about now. "I've got to go. Mum's saying I've got to finish my homework or go to bed early – ugh. Good luck with lover boy. I'm really glad you've found someone that makes you happy."

"Thanks, Louis," Harry blushes, hiding his face away behind the sleeve of his sweater even though he's completely aware no one can see him right now. "See ya."

"Bye Harry."

Looks like Harry's got a long day ahead of him. There's definitely no way he's going to be able to sleep now. And if the reason for that had to do with a certain blond boy he can't ever seem to get out of his head, well then, he doesn't even mind.

***

"I want you to be my boyfriend."

Harry looks ahead of him, bottom lip caught in between two rows of teeth while his heart pumps sporadically in his chest. His cheeks are tinted a harsh pink, fingers trembling uncontrollably at his sides before he forces himself to take in a deep, deep breath. _Fuck_. No, that isn't right. He shakes his head at his reflection where he stands in front of his mirror and frowns. "Ugh, that's doesn't sound right," he grumbles to himself, raising his arms to bring his hands up closer to his face and rubbing at his eyes frustratedly. He's just barely running his fingers through his curly strands when his mum walks into his room.

"Harry, what are you doing?" She sends him a look, eyebrows furrowing out of curiosity. "You're gonna be late for school if you don't hurry up."

"Right," he shakes his head again to rid himself of his thoughts, to try and get himself to calm down again before he does anything else. He's absolutely out of it today. It's not even nine o'clock yet. "Sorry."

Harry turns away from his mirror, heading straight for his closet to pick out the clothes he's going to wear for today. He doesn't have much time to really choose anything, so he just grabs the first items he touches and puts them on without a second thought.

"Are you alright?" His mum calls out from where she's still perched, leaning against his doorframe. "You seem a little frazzled."

"'M okay," he nods, shrugs, but inside his heart is raging and it just won't stop. "Just... just have a big day ahead of me, is all."

"Test?"

"Yeah," Harry says, draws out the syllables, for lack of anything better to say. Besides, he's not about to tell his mum that he plans on asking his best friend to be something more – no way. "I guess you could say that."

And he suddenly remembers that he actually does have a test today, but obviously that's the last thing on his mind at the moment. His mum doesn't say anything more, though. She just sends him a funny look, shaking her head with a smile dancing on her lips before she walks off and leaves Harry by himself once again. Harry lets out a huff he hadn't even noticed he was holding in before whispering to himself, "You got this, Harry. You're going to do okay."

God, he really hopes he will. He really hopes everything will go as planned.

He tries not to think about what's ahead of him anymore because the more he stresses about it, the more chances that he'll fuck everything up, so he stops. He goes back into his closet, clumsily slipping his feet into his favorite pair of converse, not even bothering to put them on all the way. He grabs his jacket, reaches for his backpack and throws it across his shoulders before dashing out of his room and zooming down the stairs. His mum shakes her head at her son for the second time today, grabbing her keys that sit on the counter waiting to be picked up and following after Harry's footsteps.

The car ride to school is sat in silence, which doesn't normally happen, but this time it's only because Harry's far too anxious to say anything right now. His knee keeps bouncing and his fingers won't stop tapping random rhythms against his jean clad thighs, and his mum keeps sending him puzzled glances through the rear view mirror, but she doesn't say anything. Harry assumes that she knows he's got something bigger than a test going on today, but thank god she doesn't question anything about it.

His nerves only grow as they pull into the school's drop off section. Suddenly, Harry's starting to feel sick. What if he can't do this after all? What if he makes a fool out of himself and messes up the only opportunity he has? Well, it's not really the only opportunity, but it sure feels like it is. It also sure feels like Harry's on the verge of chickening out all together and claiming that he's too sick to go to class today, but the thought is interrupted by the sound of his mother's voice. Harry's kind of glad for that in a way. It gives him more time to stall. Gives him more time for a distraction so that he's forced to think about something else.

"Harry, you sure you're okay? You look a bit... out of it."

And maybe he really is okay, maybe he's just overthinking and worrying too much about something that doesn't even need to be worried about in the first place. Because it doesn't, because it's not even that big of a deal anyway so Harry's got absolutely no reason to be freaking out at all. It's just Niall, right? It's only someone he's grown oh so comfortable around, someone he's grown so close to, so really he should be okay. It's fine – it's only Niall, there's nothing that should scare him. It's just him and Niall and nothing else in between.

"I'm okay," Harry breathes, nods his head, because he is okay. He's perfectly fine. "Um, fine. I'll see you later, mum, okay?"

"Alright..." Anne scrunches her eyebrows, unconvinced but she lets it go. "Have a good day."

Harry smiles at his mum, sending her a wave before opening the car door and stepping out to make his way towards the front of the school. And if everything goes as planned, he will. He'll have a such fantastic day.


	24. Twenty-three

**Niall**

It's quiet at the table once lunchtime hits, which Niall finds a bit weird since there's always conversation between him and Harry during this hour, but he doesn't say much either since he's not really sure what to say for some reason anyway. Harry's knee keeps shaking underneath the table, like he's filled with a bunch of nerves and jitters that he just can't help himself, and Niall can feel the movement since Harry's taken it upon himself to sit as close to him as he can possibly be. He doesn't mind, no, hasn't ever really minded the fact that Harry likes to be near him, but right now he kind of does mind because the feeling of Harry's knee jostling against his is quite annoying if he's being honest right now.

He's in the middle of taking a bite of his sandwich when he's had enough. He goes to set his food back down before reaching over to place his hand on top of Harry's knee underneath the table. Niall gives his leg one firm squeeze to get Harry to stop, which he does immediately once he feels Niall's hand on him, and pulls his hand away, going back to eating his lunch just like before. "Thanks," Niall mumbles before he starts chewing again.

"Oh– sorry," is Harry's reply, and well, Niall hasn't heard him say that in a while. He can't stop a small smile from appearing on his lips at the thought.

"Are you okay?" Niall decides to ask in the moment.

"Yeah, uh," Harry clears his throat, "why do you ask?"

"Because–" Niall starts. "Because you're being scarily quiet, which is odd because you talk too much, and you're bouncing your leg like you've got a tick – are you nervous?"

"Nervous? Why would I be nervous? I'm not nervous."

Niall just laughs like it's the funniest thing he's ever heard Harry say before. "You're jittery. What's wrong with you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about, Ni."

"Okay," Niall chuckles some more. He can feel his cheeks getting hot the more he does so. "If you say so."

They grow quiet again, so Niall takes it upon himself to start eating his lunch once again since Harry hasn't decided to say anything else yet. But maybe Niall thought too soon because right when he's about to take another bite of his sandwich, the sound of Harry's raspy voice interrupts him. Niall has to refrain from sighing – because honestly, isn't this just the most frustrating thing right now? – as he goes to set his food back down for the second time today. Hopefully he'll actually be able to finish it next time, but when it comes to Harry, maybe he doesn't really care if he never gets to in the end. God, the things he'd give up just for Harry.

"Um," Harry starts to say, shakily, but apparently he's totally fine. Apparently he's got no reason to be so nervous at the moment, but Niall begs to differ. Now he just wants to know why Harry's acting like this all of a sudden? What's going on in that head of his that's making him react this way? "Can I, um– can I ask you something?"

"You just did," Niall snorts cheekily while Harry just groans out a chuckle because Niall does these kinds of things to him, he just can't help it when they're together. "Of course you can ask me something. What is it?"

Niall notices the way harry gets quiet again. He notices the way he starts to shift in his seat, the way his knee knocks into Niall's very own when he does so. "I just– I..."

"You...?"

"I don't know how to say this, I'm trying to think."

Niall frowns to himself, completely lost, not getting any kind of hint as to what Harry wants to say. "Okay," he says softly while he waits for Harry to go on. He's forgotten all about his lunch by now; Harry's taken it upon himself, whether he realizes it or not, to steal away all of Niall's attention. But really, when has he ever not?

" _It shouldn't be that big of a deal,_ " Harry starts to whisper underneath his breath, and Niall assumes that he's speaking to himself at the moment. It's weird and Niall kind of wants to laugh but he's too intrigued to do so. The laugh gets stuck in Niall's throat, it seems, never making its way out. " _Just go for it, you can_."

Go for what? Niall's not entirely sure, but he's becoming far too anxious to wait. "Harry, what–"

"I need to ask you something. It's really important, so just listen to me, okay?"

"Um... okay?"

" _Fuck_ ," Harry sucks in a deep breath before he goes on with whatever it is that he needs to say. "I don't really know what I'm doing because I've never done anything like this before, but Louis said I should just go for it because it's not that big of a deal, really, and I'm sure I can do it– wait, I know I can, but I'm just really nervous and I don't know..."

Niall furrows his eyebrows even deeper. Even maths class isn't as confusing as Harry's being right now, oh God. What is he up to?

"I don't know. This isn't even actually a question at all, but– whatever. I just... I think we should... I think that we – me and you – should, y'know, be, um, together."

Niall feels like his face is going to be stuck in a permanent scowl if he doesn't stop frowning like he is now. "What do you mean?" He questions out of pure confusion. "We are, we're sitting together right now."

"No!" Harry groans out of frustration, letting out a frustrated chuckle, and Niall wonders if he's gripping at the roots of his hair right about now. He supposes he is since he feels Harry's arms raising as he sits next to him. "What I _meant_ was, I think that we, you and I, should be together together, like, you should be my boyfriend. I should be your boyfriend, Niall."

"W-what?"

"Don't tell me you don't know what a boyfriend is, Ni–"

"I know what that is, Harry," Niall lets out sarcastically. "I mean, you– you want that? You want to be my... my..."

"Yes," Harry states immediately like the topic has been thought about for so long and his decision has been set in stone for quite some time now. But Niall can't really believe it, he can't believe anything he's hearing at the moment because Harry wants them to be together? Like a couple? He wants them to be... boyfriends? _What_? "I– I really like you, and I'd like to think that you really like me, too. You do like me, right?"

"Well I– I do, but I–"

"So I think that it only makes sense, yeah? Because we, like, we kiss and hold hands and stuff and we– it's only make sense that we get together, right? Because– because that's what people do when they like each other. They– they get together and they kiss and they hold hands and they like each other but as a couple, and–"

Harry's taken by quite the surprise when Niall launches himself right at Harry's body, when he wraps his arms around Harry's neck and he pulls him down closer and closer until there's no room in between to separate them, until Niall's face is tucked into the space between Harry's shoulder and he holds him tight as if he never, ever wants to let go. And he doesn't – he never wants to let his favorite person in the whole wide world go if he doesn't have to. "I get it, Harry," Niall giggles, smiling widely against Harry's delicate skin. He feels Harry's arms coiling around his torso then, holding him just as tight, holding him just as close. There's a soft press of Harry's lips against Niall's temple, a short but sweet kiss left behind that makes Niall's insides tremble with the joy that he feels within, with the excitement he feels buzzing all around.

He's terrified, though. He's never had anything like this before, has never even had friends to call his own before Harry waltz his way into Niall's life, and now – now he's got a boyfriend? If this is all just a dream, so be it. He'd like to stay asleep forever if this is the kind of stuff he gets to dream about. He never wants to wake up if he doesn't have to from here on out.

"I really do like you, y'know?" Niall mumbles his syllables across the warmth of Harry's skin. He can feel his boy shivering underneath him as he speaks. "I like you a lot, actually."

"Well, that's good to know," Harry laughs breathily. "I guess I like you, too."

Niall chuckles, shaking his head because Harry's an actual idiot, but when has he ever not been one? "I've never done this before," Niall's voice comes out small and timid-like, still connected with Harry, still intertwined in each other's arms with no plans to let go any time soon. "What if I mess everything up?"

"You won't," Harry assures him like he's one hundred percent sure. And you know what? Niall believes him. Niall believes everything Harry has ever and will ever say from this point on. "You won't, and if you do I'll be right there with you because I've never done this before, either. If we mess up, at least we'll mess up together, yeah?"

"I can't believe you," Niall mutters in awe, that familiar warm and fuzzy feeling taking over his entire body once again. He doesn't think it'll ever go away. "I can't believe you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Harry pulls away then, but he still makes sure to let his fingers fall between the spaces on Niall's hand because it's true when they say they never want to let each other go. Harry gives Niall's fingers a gentle squeeze before he speaks up again. "Niall–" he starts to say before Niall beats him to it.

"I mean it, Harry. You are, you really are."

Fingers card through blond hair all of a sudden until they end up at the nape of Niall's neck. Niall leans into Harry's touch without a second thought and everything feels like it's all fallen into place. Everything feels so right, and with Harry, Niall knows it is. Niall knows there's no other way.

"I could say the same," Harry admits, and well, that's all Niall needs to hear, really. That's all he needs to hear to know that everything that's just happened was the icing on top to complete his day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> might update again later on today if I get to it. if not, it probably won't be that long before i do. in the mean time, follow my tumblr, [narry-bomb](http://narry-bomb.tumblr.com/) if you'd like. thanks for reading, let me know what you think? :)


	25. Twenty-four

**Harry**

"Your mum hates me," Harry huffs exasperatedly as soon as he and Niall step foot into his bedroom, the very second Niall gets his door closed. Harry sighs, plopping down on top of Niall's bed and spreading his body out until he resembles that of a starfish. "I'm pretty sure she hates me now."

Of course Niall just chuckles – when is he ever not laughing at something? He cackles and his mouth goes all wide and big when he laughs and – God, he's just so pretty that Harry actually can't stand it. His insides twirl like a dancer in a tutu whenever he looks at Niall. His body feels like it's literally on fire whenever he's near the blond, and – it's just the greatest feeling ever, isn't it? Harry can't imagine anything better than this. He can't imagine anything being better than everything he has right now. And if there is, he doesn't want it. He'd like to not know about it if he can help it.

"She doesn't hate you," Niall counters, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. Harry watches Niall as he carefully sets his walking stick aside, as he takes his time removing his shoes one by one and setting them down so neatly, so organized. He has a strong urge to pull Niall closer to him, to slip his arm around Niall's narrow waist and reel him in just to be near him, because even though they aren't that far apart, it feels odd not having him pressed up against his side like two pieces to a puzzle that won't work, that won't complete the entire picture unless they're connected.

"She does," Harry groans, pouts because he doesn't want to believe that Niall's mother does in fact loathe him, but it wouldn't be so surprising to him if she actually does. "She hates me."

"Maybe not hate," Niall gives it a bit of thought. "More like, like, she doesn't trust you maybe?"

"Oh yeah, Ni, because that's _so_ much better."

"Hey, 'm just sayin'."

There's a snort released from the middle of Harry's throat, a roll of his eyes to go along with it as well. "You're making me feel guilty again," he utters. "Stop making me feel guilty."

"Sorry," is what Niall may say, but the tone of his voice tells Harry otherwise. What a little tease he is.

"You're lucky you're cute."

"I'd say the same about you, too, but..."

And Niall points a finger up at his eyes, the ones that no longer hide behind those thick framed glasses Harry so desperately used to wish Niall wouldn't cover himself with, like it's no big deal at all. He's laughing a bit so Harry knows he means no actual harm behind his so called joke, but Harry feels like it isn't his place to join in laughing with him. He does, though, even when he tries so hard not to. But it's okay because Niall doesn't seem to mind at all.

"Don't make me laugh at that, Niall, I feel bad."

"S'okay," Niall feels around in front of him until he finds what he's searching for. His hand lands on top of Harry's palm, curling his fingers around Harry's very own whenever he does so. Harry's chest starts to feel tight – he's so head over heels for Niall that it's not even funny. "It's not like you made the joke."

"Still makes me feel bad for finding it funny."

Harry's caught off guard when Niall leans forward, when he crowds Harry's space until there's no room left in between only to push his lips against Harry's for a split second before pushing himself away again. The kiss was so fast that Harry has to wonder if it ever even happened in the first place. Of course it did, otherwise his mouth wouldn't feel like it's been set ablaze if it hadn't. "Is that okay?" Niall quickly asks all of a sudden. "Can I..."

"Of course you can kiss me, Niall, what kind of question is that?"

"I don't know, I just thought–"

Harry hopes Niall doesn't mind the interruption, hopes he doesn't mind being silenced by Harry's lips at all. And maybe he doesn't going by the way he melts right into their kiss, going by the way his body molds perfectly against Harry's, the way he squeezes their interlocked fingers and lets his other hand rest in the dip between Harry's shoulder and his neck.

He's such a good kisser for Harry to have been his first not too long ago. Harry doesn't have much experience himself, but Niall's probably the best. Or maybe it's just the fact that it's Niall that makes him so good, but does it even matter? All that matters is Niall and the feel of him pressed up against Harry's body and the fact that they're together now, that they're finally together in the way Harry wished they'd be for so long, and it's the most perfect thing ever, he feels. Like a good ending to a fairytale, really. Maybe even a bit better.

Niall pulls away moments later, much to Harry's dismay. He has to refrain from letting out a whine of protest afterwards, has to refrain from pulling Niall back in and kissing him senseless, until they're lips feel numb and neither of them know whose mouth is whose. Harry doesn't do any of that, though. Just lets Niall rest his head upon his chest, lets him curl up against his body like this is where he's meant to be all along. Harry presses a kiss or two against the top of Niall's head and lets out a sigh of content as he goes to hold his favorite boy because he's just so damn happy that it doesn't even feel real. Nothing should feel this right, but thank God it does.

Thank God Harry and Niall are in the place that they are now. Thank God Harry actually found the guts to ask Niall out, to ask him to be his boyfriend, to do something he's been wanting to do for so long. Happiness isn't a grand enough word to describe how he feels in this very moment, how he's felt for a while now, ever since that day in the hallways when he literally ran into Niall. From then on up until now and hopefully for a long time afterwards, this is the happiest Harry's ever been. And it feels good; it feels amazing to be able to feel this way. Harry honestly would never ask for anything less.

And he cards his fingers through the blond strands on top of Niall's head, closes his eyes and soaks in the sweet feeling of having Niall right there by his side.

They may be together now, officially, but nothing feels different. Everything pretty much feels the same, and that's what makes it that much more great, in Harry's opinion. How well he and Niall work together, how perfectly they fit. It feels like it should all be a dream, really, like it's too good to be true, but Harry won't ever complain. How could he, especially when he's got everything he could ever really want.

"What do you think my parents would say if I ever told them about us?"

Harry has to think about the question for a moment because if he's honest, he's not entirely sure. Yes, he's aware that Niall's parents (mostly his mother) are sometimes hard on him, aware of how strict they can be, but he can't imagine them giving him shit just for being with someone, right. Because – because that doesn't make any sense at all in Harry's mind, he can't picture Niall's parents trying to control that aspect of his life, too, but then again maybe he can.

He's stuck in the middle, really. Figures it could only go two ways – a good way, hopefully.

"I don't know," Harry shrugs a little. He doesn't really want to think of the outcome right now. "Do you– are you going to, you know, tell them?"

"No," Niall doesn't hesitate. Harry's not sure how he feels about that yet. "I mean, not right now, no. Will you tell your mum?"

And Harry shrugs again, not really thinking that far ahead as of now. Of course he's going to tell his mum, though, he tells her everything, but right now they're – he and Niall – fairly new, and maybe Harry just wants to let the fact that he can finally call Niall his boyfriend soak in for a bit. He's not scared at all, if that's what Niall's thinking. He knows he won't get a negative reaction from his mother, she knows pretty much everything about him, but he's not sure if he can say the same about Niall's family yet. The time will come soon enough, eventually, but for now they'll just have to wait and see.

"Mhm," Harry hums as he continues to run his fingers through Niall's hair. "But – but not yet. I want to wait a bit."

"Me too," Niall agrees with a nod of his head from where he still lays against Harry's chest. "I just want it to be between you and me for now."

Harry's heart flares when he hears Niall's words, when he hears the 'me and you' pouring from his best friend's lips. It just – it sounds so good, feels so nice knowing that Niall and Harry have now become _NiallandHarry._ Harry's just glad he doesn't have to wonder anymore. He's glad that he doesn't have to worry about if Niall actually liked him the way that he liked Niall or not anymore, glad they've gotten past the whole dancing around each other's feelings thing. But Harry wouldn't change any of what happened in the moments that lead up to them being where they are now for the world. He'd always appreciate any and everything that pertained to Niall no matter what.

"Is it still normal?" Harry asks, sounding somewhere far, far away. He smiles to himself a bit, holds Niall a bit closer just because he can, just because he feels like it. It's so nice – everything just feels so nice.

Niall chuckles and Harry can feel the movement against his chest. "Is what normal?" He retorts; Harry's surprised he hasn't been called an idiot yet.

"Is it still normal to feel this way about a person?"

"Why would it change?"

"I don't know," Harry sighs, albeit happily. "Because I feel like it's been intensified. If anything, I feel that much more crazy about you. Still normal?"

"You're an idiot," is what Niall chooses to say, grinning so broad that it looks like it hurts, and well, Harry should've seen it coming. It was only a matter of time. "You're an absolute idiot."

And Harry just shrugs – he doesn't mind being called an idiot as long as Niall's the one saying it. It feels like a blessing to be called an idiot by him, really. "So I've been told," Harry chimes. He honestly doesn't think his smile has ever been so wide. "A lot actually."

"I guess that makes me one, too. I suppose I'm an idiot as well because I feel the exact same."

" _Hey_ ," Harry gasps, then, audibly and dramatically. "I think we might be soulmates."

There's chills that roll throughout Harry's entire body when Niall bursts out into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. Harry's heart swells when Niall's grin grows and grows and grows. His head feels so dizzy at the sight in front of him, and maybe that's what tells Harry that his thoughts might just be true. His feelings only intensify when Niall tells him to shut up in between giggles, and he supposes they'll only keep growing from here. There's no telling if he and Niall actually are in fact soulmates, but Harry doesn't care. Niall's the best thing that could have ever happened to him – Harry would take him either way.


	26. Twenty-five

**Niall**

Sitting side by side, shoulder to shoulder, knees knocking together in the middle just how Niall likes it, he shoves one side of his headphones into his ear before passing the other Harry's way. Their fingers brush against one another's, so gentle and quick, and Niall's cheeks start to tint a soft, blushing pink from the touch, and when he feels the heat rising underneath his skin, he ducks his head, hiding his face away against his shoulder in the shyest way so that Harry doesn't catch a glimpse. It's been about a week since they've officially been together, and ever since that moment, Niall couldn't think about anything else. Maybe he's dreaming; maybe this whole thing is nothing but a dream because it sure does feel that way. Nothing feels real to him, but he's glad that it is. He's glad that this is real life – real life but it feels like a dream come true.

He's still nervous, though. He's never had to be someone's boyfriend before, let alone be somebody's friend at that. What if he messes up? What if he's not good enough? What if Harry realizes that; what if he realizes that he could find someone better out there for him? Niall's not sure what he'd do if it all came down to that point. He's not sure what he'd do without Harry in his life.

Because there's no doubt that Niall's already become way too attached to Harry. There's no doubt that they've both become sort dependent on each other in a way. At this point, Niall's been pulled in so deep that it feels like Harry is all he knows. And maybe that isn't the healthiest thing, being so involved with someone to this extent, but it just feels so right. Maybe it's fate, Niall supposes. Maybe that day when Harry bumped into Niall in the hallway was meant to happen. Thank God it had.

They're back at Harry's house once again, except this time they're outside in the backyard (which is also known as Niall's favorite place to be) sitting on the swinging chair perched on top of the patio. It's nice outside, a bit warmer than it usually tends to be, with sparse sunlight peaking through the thin, gray clouds up above, but it's enough—it's better than nothing, Niall thinks. He finally presses play on the device he holds in his hands, and just like that the music to one of his favorite songs begins to fill his ears and puts a small smile on his face.

"You like this song, too?" Harry asks, sounding happy like sunshine itself has been laced within his vocal chords. Hearing Harry this way sends jitters all throughout Niall's body, gets his heart racing like none other from only hearing five simple words. Oh God, he's mad, he definitely is.

"Mhm," Niall nods happily, smile never leaving his face. "It's one of my favorites. Do you know it?"

"Yeah," Harry says as he starts to bob his head to the beat. "It's one of my favorites, too."

Niall isn't sure why that piece of information makes his heart swell, but it does and he's not going to question it. He can't anyway, he tends to feel like this an awful lot whenever he's around Harry. At this point, it's only bound to happen.

Niall can hear Harry humming along to the song beside him, and before he knows it, there's an involuntary smile spreading across his lips, so simple and easy, at the thought of Harry enjoying the music that they're currently listening to. He's just perfect, isn't he? All around Harry is perfection it seems, and Niall still isn't sure how things between them ever came about. He still isn't sure how or why Harry ever chose him of all people on this earth he could choose from. Maybe he'll never understand, but maybe he'll never have to because he's here, they're together, and nothing else really matters but that.

" _We'll run away together_ ," Harry starts to sing along lowly to himself, out loud, like he's singing for nobody else but him and Niall. There's that feeling again, deep down in Niall's chest, the best feeling there is. " _We'll spend some time forever. We'll never feel bad anymore_..."

" _Hip, hip_ ," they chant together, bursting out into a fit of uncontrollable giggles afterwards, falling against each other's bodies and laughing into each other's shoulders like it's the funniest thing in the world.

It's just the easiest thing in the world, them being together. Maybe things really are meant to be between them. Niall finds it hard to think otherwise, especially when they fit so well together like they do. How can they not be meant for each other?

Harry presses a kiss upon Niall's neck where he finds himself nestling against. There's a shiver that runs through Niall's spine at the feeling of Harry's lips ghosting across his skin. He can feel Harry's warm smile against him, which cause for him to smile himself as well, 'cause for one, Harry's smiles are always so contagious it seems, and two, Niall's just so, _so_ happy that he can't help himself. He doesn't think there'll ever come a time when he's not smiling or laughing or blushing pink when he's around Harry. It's kind of impossible, really, kind of natural for him at this point to react in such a way. It feels normal by now, just feels right.

The song is over by the time they pull away from each other, by the time their laughter has dwindled down and they're left with faint, leftover smiles sitting pretty on their lips. As the next song starts up and a new melody fills their ears, Harry slips an arm around Niall's shoulders, gently pulling him in until his back is pressed up against his chest and Niall's head falls back to rest on Harry's shoulder. Conversation is pretty much nonexistent in the moment, but there's really no need for it at all. There's no need for anything to say, for Niall feels content enough just being around Harry as it is.

And it's nice to be able to spend quality time with Harry. It's nice letting Harry run his fingers through Niall's blond strands, nice having warm arms wound around his body, nice letting Harry hold him tight as if it's impossible for him to let go.

For some reason, Niall finds himself thinking about the future; what it holds, where he'll be, how it'll be like. He knows it's a bit early, maybe too early to be thinking of this, but he can't help but wonder where he and Harry will end up. It kind of makes his head spin thinking of all the possibilities of what could come about, of how everything could end up. It's kind of scary to think about, too – what if it's bad? What if things don't end up working out the way he wants them to, the way he hopes they will? He doesn't want to think about what it'd be like if he ever lost Harry. He wishes he would've never thought of it in the first place.

It's too early to tell, truthfully. It's too early to be worrying himself over something like this. It's too early to be pondering the worst.

He pushes himself further into Harry's body to take his mind off of things, and it seems to work. He seems to lose all track of thought when Harry lets Niall hug him tight, when he lets Niall hug him closer than before. And all he can focus on now is the sound of his music playing softly in one ear and the feeling of having Harry right there to hold, the feeling of knowing Harry will always be right by his side.

***

"Has anyone ever told you that you've got a face for a smile?" Harry says, blurts out, out of nowhere, making Niall frown in amusement at his randomness.

Niall just snorts because Harry's always been pretty weird now that he thinks about it. It never seizes to amaze Niall how he's always got something weird to say. "What does that even mean?" He starts to laugh.

"I don't know," Niall feels Harry shrug. Then Harry's grinning 'cause he just can't help it around Niall, before reaching out without a second thought and brushing some of Niall's hair off of his forehead. Niall blushes deeply but he doesn't say anything. In fact, he kind of finds himself melting into Harry's touch a bit, but he hopes Harry doesn't realize it. He still gets pretty nervous about this stuff, believe it or not. It still embarrasses him knowing how easily he seems to give into Harry. "You just have a face perfect for smiling, I guess."

"I'm sure you do, too, Harry," Niall chuckles softly. Maybe, but Harry still thinks Niall's got him beat. "I wish I could see you." Niall mutters after a moment, trying not to sound so down about it. He can't help it, though. If he could ask for anything in the world, if he could have one wish, there's no doubt in his mind what he'd use it on. He wouldn't even hesitate if that meant he'd be able to see Harry. Just one time would be enough for him, too. Just one glance and he'd be the happiest boy in the world.

"I bet you're beautiful," Niall continues on around a quiet sigh, sounding awfully distant than he typically would be.

"I wish you could see how beautiful you are," Harry tells him instead, making Niall's heart stutter like a broken record. Harry's far too good for him. For some reason, he just feels like he doesn't deserve someone as pure and sweet as Harry. "I wish you could see what I see."

The way Harry's thumb traces across the smooth skin on his cheek makes him want to believe every single word Harry's just spoken to him. Not that he doesn't, and not that he necessarily does either, but the way Harry says it, the way he touches him and always reassures Niall is what convinces him. Besides, he doesn't think Harry's one to lie, especially to Niall. He'll never know for sure, but if Harry says so then it must be true.

That doesn't mean the thought fully registers into Niall's mind, though. Somewhere, deep down, he'll always believe his thoughts about Harry over Harry's thoughts about Niall, but (and even if it's only for a moment) for now he'll take his word for it. Besides, it feels kind of nice being appreciated in a way he never has been before. It makes him feel good knowing that there's someone out there who sees the good in him, who makes sure that Niall feels his best even at times when he may not believe it himself.

And that's a thing Niall supposes he'll always cherish most about Harry: how he always tries to lift Niall's spirits up, how he always makes sure to assure Niall that he'll ever be anything less than the boy he is.

God, _how did he ever get to lucky?_

"Besides," Harry attempts to lighten the mood by making himself sound more easygoing, more upbeat. "What if you got the chance to see me and weren't satisfied with what you got? I mean, I don't think you would be, but–"

" _Shut up_ ," Niall promptly cuts Harry off with a sarcastic laugh. "I wouldn't do that. Obviously I like you for you, I wouldn't care what you look like."

"Even if I had one eye and ears bigger than the size of my head?" Niall starts to feel Harry moving closer to him. There goes that smile again, creeping its way onto Niall's lips, that seems to be made for no one else at all but Harry. Oh wow – he's really got his own Harry smile, hasn't he?

"Even if you had no eyes and ears that you'd need a magnifying glass just to see."

Niall's caught off guard when he feels fingers dancing across his abdomen all of a sudden. He starts squirming where he's sat next to Harry on top of his bed as Harry tickles him like he's done so many times before, as Harry attacks his stomach with his fingertips. He's laughing so hard by now, wriggling so much underneath his boyfriend's touch that he eventually ends up sprawled out flat on his back against Harry's mattress. Niall attempts to separate himself from Harry's hands, but much to his luck, it's no use. Harry continues tickling Niall, continues to make niall laugh until he can't breathe, and sooner than Niall least expects, Harry stops himself from going any further. Instead of fingers roaming against his body, Harry keeps them still, lets his hands settle at Niall's sides before leaning down and gently placing his mouth upon Niall's very own.

Niall's breath hitches in his throat, feels his stomach tingling as those familiar butterflies flutter all around inside of him almost as if it were the first time. Unfortunately, though, Harry pulls away before Niall can really get into the kiss. He almost starts to protest, almost reaches out for Harry only to pull him back in just to finish what they started before, but he never gets to.

Harry leans down once more, pressing soft, tender kisses against each of Niall's closed eyelids before whispering the word _beautiful_ against his skin. Niall's left with the faint feeling of Harry's lips ghosting across his face and a heavy sensation expanding in his heart to the point where it feels like it might burst.

And that single word clouds Niall's mind, clutters his brain with nothing but the thought of it until it's all he can hear in his mind. Beautiful is what Harry thinks of him, something he's always tried to make him feel from the start. Beautiful is what Harry never fails to call him, and maybe, just maybe, it's about time that he starts believing it, too.


	27. Twenty-six

**Harry**

Saturday afternoon, Harry finds himself standing on Zayn's front porch. It's chilly outside, the breeze blowing so harshly around his body that it makes him shiver, has Harry curling further into the jacket he wears as if that'll keep him warm. His fist hits the door three times before he's quickly stuffing his hands back into the pockets of the coat he wears so they won't freeze off. It's the weekend so he knows Zayn is probably still asleep right now, knows he probably won't be up for another couple of hours but he doesn't care. Harry needs Zayn right now; he needs him and he doesn't care if it's too early for him to be pestering his best friend – Zayn can go back to sleep later.

Harry has to wait a while before someone opens the door. He feels himself growing awfully impatient, tapping his foot on the ground beneath where he stands just to pass time, feeling like he's been waiting decades when in reality it's only been about two minutes. Two minutes too long almost, but all is forgotten once the front door flies open, revealing a sleepy eyed Zayn standing on the opposite side of Harry. There's a stubborn frown etched onto his face, a grumpy scowl that has Harry wanting to laugh when he sees it, but ultimately he decides not to to spare Zayn the annoyance.

"Wha'ya doin' here, mate?" Zayn grumbles incoherently almost, rubbing the leftover sleep away from his eyes like a child who's been woken up by his parent at the wrong time.

"I need your help," Harry simply replies. He doesn't bother to wait for Zayn to invite him in, doesn't wait for a verbal response either, just walks right passed Zayn instead, their shoulders just barely grazing one another's as he does so. It's a good thing they're such close friends otherwise Zayn would never tolerate Harry's abrupt actions like he is now.

"You need my help?" Zayn words are sluggish as he closes his front door and follows behind Harry as if this is his house and Zayn is the guest instead. "This early? On a Saturday?"

"It's twelve in the afternoon," Harry deadpans. "And yes, I do. Are you gonna help me or not?"

They're stood in the middle of Zayn's hallway, the one right next to the living room that also leads to the kitchen area a few steps down. Harry stands there with eager green eyes, arms folded across his chest, ready and waiting for Zayn's answer. Zayn, fully awake now thanks to Harry, mimics Harry's posture except he's leaning on the wall while staring Harry up and down with a hint of amusement clear on his face. "Depends on what you need help with," Zayn shrugs even though they both know he's going to help with whatever it is that Harry needs help with in the end. He's way too nice not to, anyway.

"I need you to help me plan a date with Niall."

Zayn bursts out into a fit of giggles then, doubling over with his hands clutching at his stomach as he does so. Harry doesn't join in, though. He doesn't understand the joke, doesn't understand why Zayn thinks what he's just said is so funny because it isn't. He's being completely serious; dead serious. You can definitely tell going by the look on his face, how his lips have settled into a solid line and how he gives Zayn a blank stare.

"Me?" Zayn asks just to make sure once he realizes that maybe Harry actually is being serious after all. "What about Louis or even Liam?"

Harry huffs out loud. He rolls his eyes and throws his hands up in the air in exasperation because really? Really, Zayn? "Louis is stupid and Liam is even stupider," Harry says it like it's a matter of fact. (It is.) "Besides, you're like, like, the romantic one out of all of us. You love this kind of shit, you know this kind of shit."

"I do," Zayn agrees around a nod. He's a sucker for cheesy, mushy stuff that would gross most normal people out, but not Zayn, believe it or not. He's such a hopeless romantic that it's actually kind of sickening, Harry thinks to himself. But – but this is what he needs right now, he does, so he supposes he'll just have to suck it up. "Don't tell me you're just now taking him on a date, Harry."

And Harry hides his face away behind his shoulder, blushing harder than he ever has before, as he follows behind Zayn where they're walking up the staircase that'll lead them to Zayn's room. It's a good thing he can't see the sheepish look that's taken over Harry's face at the moment. He'd probably die of embarrassment if Zayn could, he already feels ashamed enough as it is.

"Well, we've only been together for about a week," Harry mutters once they reach the top of the stairs.

"So?" Zayn enters his bedroom. "You could've asked him on a date beforehand, y'know. That typically is how it works."

"Well I'm not a typical person. I– I guess I never thought about it before until now. S'that bad?"

"It's cool, Harry," Zayn lets out a friendly chuckle. "Doesn't matter anyway. I'm sure Niall hasn't even noticed, and if he has he probably doesn't care."

"I have no idea what I'm doing," Harry whines, slipping his long fingers into the roots on his scalp and just barely tugging at the hair that grows out. "I've never had to be a boyfriend before."

"And neither has he. Not everyone's relationship is the same. There's not some universal code that everyone has to follow in order to make it work. You guys can do whatever you want to. You can be a boyfriend however you feel the need to as long as you're being a good one."

And he is, he thinks. He's going to be the best boyfriend ever, the best he can be because that's what Niall deserves. He deserves everything and then some; Niall deserves the world.

"Okay," he nods, taking every bit of advice Zayn is giving him and letting it all sink in. "I still don't know what to do for this whole date thing. I'm not a very creative person. You are, though. That's why I came to you in the first place."

"Good choice," Zayn says, and even though it comes out like a joke, Harry knows he's right. After all, Zayn does have a tendency to excel at pretty much everything anyway. There's no one else Harry would prefer to rely on than him. "Wait– not to sound like an ignorant asshole or anything but how's this going to work if, y'know…"

Harry frowns a bit. "If what?"

"Well, uh," Zayn starts to scratch at the back of his neck nervously, nibbling in his bottom lip before he speaks again. "Like, he can't exactly see, so…"

"Oh, I–"

"I mean – sorry, that was rude, I just meant like–"

"No, yeah," Harry nods because he gets it, he does, and he knows Zayn would never go out of his way to be rude to someone else, especially someone that Harry really cared about a lot. It's a genuine question, Harry understands that, and honestly, he hadn't even thought of it at all before until now. And now that the idea has been planted into his mind, he's kind of starting to wonder, too. "I get it. It's okay, Zayn."

"It doesn't matter, though, yeah?" Zayn says all lighthearted and full of optimism, and that's another thing that Harry will always appreciate about him. Zayn is hands down one of the nicest, most pure people Harry has ever had the pleasure of meeting before. He's not sure what he'd do without him, really. "This could be nice for the both of you. He can't see, yeah, but I think just knowing how much thought and effort you're putting into your relationship will make him happy. I mean, it's obvious he enjoys your company, I think everything will be fine."

"Yeah," Harry agrees, nodding happily and letting a genuine smile spread across his lips until he can't smile any further. "Yeah, you're right."

Because all that matters really is that he'll be able to spend quality time with his favorite person, and truthfully, that's all that matters most to him. There's nothing in the whole wide world that Harry would ever want more than getting to be around Niall. Nothing else at all.

***

After being with Zayn for a couple of hours and after getting help for this date of his he's planning for Niall (which they spent most of the time goofing around and talking nonsense rather than actually getting anything done), Harry's happy that he finally gets to spend time with Niall after what seemed like hours of being away from him. It's only mid-afternoon, but Harry already misses him so much, more than he should anyway. It feels like it's been days since he's last seen his blond headed boyfriend, when in actuality the last time they saw each other was yesterday at school. He can't help it, though. He can't help that Niall is such a strong constant in his life at this point. He can't help the way that he feels about him.

Niall's sitting on his front porch by the time Harry makes it to his home, almost as if he were waiting just for Harry to arrive. Harry's smile is automatic by the time he lays eyes on Niall; it's kind of pathetic, kind of gross how his heart starts to beat wildly in his chest and his stomach starts to tingle like he just can't help it, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care at all, not one bit.

It's almost as if Niall can sense Harry's presence because the minute Harry starts to make his way up Niall's driveway, Niall perks up immediately, standing up from where he sits with his familiar white cane grasped between his fingers like it always is.

He makes his way down the few steps he has left, waiting at the bottom until Harry's stood right before him. Harry doesn't even get to say hi, doesn't get to say anything at all really before Niall is reaching out for him, curling his soft fingers around the palm of Harry's hand and pulling him closer until there's little amount of room in between them. "Can we go for a walk?" He asks, not even giving Harry a chance to speak.

Harry's eyebrows furrow together in confusion, but he doesn't question anything. Just goes along with it because it's Niall and whatever Niall wants, Harry will give it to him. Anything, you name it, and Harry will be right there. "Yeah," Harry says skeptically, but still he asks no further questions. "Um, okay. If you want to."

And that's all it takes for Niall to drag Harry along, to tug him back down his driveway and start leading the both of them down the sidewalk. Harry feels content when Niall slips his fingers in the spaces between his own, but for the most part he still feels like there's something going on with Niall that he just can't pinpoint. There's still a sense floating around in the front of his mind that there's something Niall isn't telling him.

He doesn't get time to gather up what it is he planned on saying to Niall because he beats him to it. "My brother is coming to town," he blurts out all of a sudden. His voice is low and solemn, which Harry doesn't exactly understand why he seems so down at all.

"You have a brother?" Harry's face scrunches up. Niall's never mentioned anything about a sibling before. Hell, all this time Harry's been under the impression that Niall was an only child and now apparently he has a brother – what?

"Yes," Niall sighs, just barely giving Harry's fingers a gentle squeeze.

"How come you've never told me about that before?" And it's not a big deal, really, and Harry isn't mad at all, but there's just some things he'd like to know about Niall and this is something that he feels is important. If Harry had any siblings of his own, he'd definitely let Niall know.

"'Cause," Niall gives a simple shrug. "Because he doesn't live here."

"So?" Harry lets out a short chuckle.

"And we haven't seen each other in over three years," Niall admits, and once it's out in the open Harry can't help but want to know more. Where does this so-called brother live and why haven't they been around each other in so long? He just doesn't understand.

"Why?" Harry finds himself feeling sorry all of a sudden. He just wants to bundle Niall up in his arms and cuddle him until his arms start to feel numb. "That's a good thing that he's coming back, right?"

"No," Niall states in the most serious tone Harry's ever heard him speak in before. "I haven't spoken to him since I was fourteen. I don't think he likes me very much."

"Don't say that," Harry pouts, looking down at Niall. "Maybe–"

"He's got a family of his own now. He's got a wife and a kid and – and I didn't even know about it. Now tell me, does that sound like something you'd tell your sibling if you had one? Don't you think you'd let your own brother or sister know something like that, something as important as that?"

Harry doesn't say anything back. He just ponders everything Niall has told him in the past five minutes or so and wonders just exactly what all has happened between Niall and his estranged brother. He's curious as ever, has never been so curious about something in his life before as he is now.

"I–I guess so," Harry decides absentmindedly. "Yeah, I s'pose I would."

Niall huffs out loud, "Exactly," he mutters with a frown. "He wants nothing to do with me, obviously, and now he's coming back. Mum told me Greg is coming back to visit, after three years, and now I don't know what to do."

Harry doesn't know what to say, either. He's never had to deal with anything like this before in his entire life, how the hell is he supposed to know what to do?

"Can we go back to yours?" Niall requests out of nowhere it seems, changing the subject for the time being. "I don't want to walk anymore and I don't want to go back home."

"Okay," Harry doesn't hesitate to say. It seems as though Niall really needs him right now, too. And he's here, he's here to help. He's not going anywhere and he never will either even if he has to.

Because Harry made a vow to himself to be the best boyfriend he could ever be to Niall and he means that, he does. He's going to try his hardest. He's never going to stop.

***

Curled up against each other on the sofa placed in Harry's basement, Harry and Niall sit in a comfortable silence. Niall's head rests against Harry's shoulder, his arms coiled around Harry's torso keeping him as close as possible, while Harry has an arm wrapped around Niall's narrow waist, his hand placed above his hip where it seems to fit perfectly and his thumb just barely grazing across the tiny sliver of skin peeking through underneath the jacket Niall wears.

It's quiet, and Harry's still oh so curious about every bit of information Niall poured out to him not so long ago, but he's willing to wait until Niall is ready to finish telling him what he didn't get a chance to say earlier. If he wants to, that is. If there's any more that Niall feels the need to say. At the moment, though, it looks as though all Niall needs right now is someone to be there right by his side, someone to hold him and reassure him that everything will be alright. If Niall needs to, he can take as much time as he needs to gather up his own thoughts, Harry wouldn't exactly mind. He'll wait right here with him until he's ready. He'll wait as long as he possibly can.

Harry lets his head settle above Niall's, lets Niall hold onto him a little bit tighter than before. Niall gives Harry's torso a short, quick squeeze, nuzzling his face in the crook of his boyfriend's neck before he lets out an almost inaudible sigh. He pulls away from Harry's body then, causing Harry to do the same, looking down and the blond boy in his arms when he does and watching on as Niall's lips part a bit in preparation for what he's about to say.

"I'm sorry I never told you about my brother." Niall mumbles, sounding genuinely apologetic about not disclosing such information with Harry. It makes Harry's chest feel a bit tight hearing Niall apologize for something he has absolutely no reason to be sorry for at all. He's just so precious, too pure for this world that it makes Harry's heart feel heavy just thinking about it. He's too much for Harry it feels like sometimes, but then again, it also feels like Harry can never get enough. It's something he'll never fully understand, he supposes. "I know we're supposed to tell each other things, but I just–"

"Ni, shut up, it's okay," Harry insists, pulling away from Niall's body to get a good look at him, to place his hand within Niall's own just to let him know that everything is okay, everything is just fine. "You don't have to be sorry, okay? It's okay, it really is."

"Okay," he nods, smiling softly but not enough for it to actually do anything. Harry misses his smile already. "I just don't like to talk about him, is that bad? Is it bad that sometimes I forget I even have a brother? Does that make me a bad person?"

"No, it doesn't. You're never going to be a bad person, Niall. I don't even think you're capable of being bad."

And there's that smile Harry loves so much, there's that laugh Harry's been waiting to hear for so long. He knew it couldn't have stayed away for long.

"It makes me feel bad," Niall's smile dwindles again. Well, it was nice while it lasted. "I'm not ready to face him again. I don't want to think about what's going to happen."

"Why don't you… why don't you two get along?" Harry asks the one question that's been on his mind the entire time. "Why do you think he doesn't like you."

"I know he doesn't like me," Niall corrects Harry's words. "I know he doesn't like me because the last thing he said before he left was, ‘I don't want to be near people who don't care about me. I don't want to be around parents who pretend not to have another son just because one of them is blind.’"

And, well, how is Harry supposed to follow up to that? He's at a complete loss for words, honestly – he's never felt so stuck in place before in his life.

"I think he's part of the reason why I'm so insecure, other than my parents."

"What do you mean?"

Niall sighs heavily, lacing his fingers with Harry's own. And that sort of makes Harry feel better. He still hates seeing Niall so down, though. "Because– because it's my fault. He left because of me. My parents favored me over him, whether they meant to or not, because of my disability. My parents are so overprotective of me because of that. Because they paid more attention to me than they did him, he doesn't speak to me. He wants nothing to do with me and it's all because of a disability I've never had any control over."

And – wow, that hurts. It hurts because Harry never knew Niall had to deal with this, he never knew Niall had this much added onto his plate along with everything else, too. He just wants to be there for him; take care of him, hold him tight, hug him, kiss him, touch him until everything feels better again, until it all feels right. And it will. It will get better, Harry's going to make sure to get Niall smiling again because, like he always says, Niall deserves it. Niall deserves nothing more than to be happy.

"I'm scared, Harry," Niall tells him when Harry pulls him closer, when he wraps his arms around Niall's body again and hugs him like his entire life depends on it. Harry pushes a lingering kiss to the top of Niall's head and he just hopes that the kiss alone lets Niall know that Harry's here, hopes it lets him know that Harry cares for him and he always will no matter what. "I don't want things to get any worse."

"It'll be okay, Niall."

And no, Harry's not completely sure if anything will actually be alright, he can't promise that it will, either, but he's hopeful. He has hope that everything will be okay, that everything will turn out completely fine, that everything that needs to be sorted will work itself out when the time comes. He's optimistic and he kind of has to be, too, because if he's not then neither will Niall be and that's not what either of them need right now.

"It'll be okay," Harry whispers once again, and he just hopes that it all will be. He hopes he hasn't gotten Niall's hopes up. He just hopes that his words will be true.

And just like that, all plans for Harry's date with Niall are temporarily forgotten, are pushed aside for the time being, in order for Harry to focus on what's currently more important at the moment: Niall. Because Niall means so much more to him that any date ever will and right now Niall needs Harry the most. Harry keeps his plans at the back of his mind for now, saves the date for a later time, and hopes that everything will come together for Niall soon enough. He has high hopes, though. In his mind, Harry just knows that everything will be alright.


	28. Twenty-seven

**Niall**

Although he can hear his mother's words, he isn't exactly paying much attention to what she's saying. Everything that comes out of her mouth goes in one ear and straight out the other; he forgets what she says the second her words leave her lips. Niall knows what she's currently talking to his dad about, what she's telling him, too, as if he's even listening to their conversation at all right now. Knows she's only telling them about Greg and how he'll be here by this time next week and how excited she is to finally be able to see her eldest son after going so long without doing so. Niall tries not to scoff at her enthusiasm, tries not to huff and sulk and show just exactly how miserable he feels about the situation inside, and it's proving to be quite difficult, Niall slowly realizes. He manages, though, keeps it all in for his sake in the end.

It's just—how can she be so excited knowing the situation that surrounds them all when it comes to his estranged brother? How can she sit around and pretend like everything is okay and has been okay with them when each one of them should know that that's the furthest thing from being true? Niall just doesn't understand. Maybe his mum is too in denial, maybe she doesn't want to admit what they all know by now for some reason. Whatever reason it is that she has, though, it's the complete opposite of what Niall feels. Because, in all honesty, he's actually dreading his brother's arrival. His stomach hasn't stopped twisting and his fingers haven't stopped shaking and his mind hasn't stopped racing since his parents broke the news to him last week. And now there's only about a week left until Greg comes and Niall's not sure what he's meant to do. He's not sure how everything will turn out, and if he's honest, he's kind of expecting the worst. He doesn't even have room left in his head to hope for the best, either.

He kind of wants to run away for a bit, well, just until the time for Greg's visit passes and come back whenever the coast is clear. And yeah, he knows it sounds quite pathetic how badly he wants to avoid having to be around his own brother, but can you actually blame him? To Niall, this is a completely reasonable reaction to the situation. He doesn't care either way if it isn't, he just wants everything to be over and done with. He wants nothing more than to forget the whole thing and move on.

 _Just one more week_ , he thinks to himself. _Just one more_.

Hopefully he will be able to run away (temporarily, of course), that is if his parents end up saying yes. All he wants is to be with Harry, to take his mind off of everything because Harry does that for him, Harry helps a lot with that kind of stuff, and he's got the perfect opportunity to do so today, too. Apparently Harry's mum has a date with a man she's been seeing for a while so he'll have the house all to himself for the night. Harry kept bugging Niall about how bored he was going to be all alone since his friends are busy tonight and his only hope to save from his inevitable boredom is Niall and Niall only. Niall doesn't need to be bugged, though. He'll always be willing to help Harry in whatever way he needs him to no matter what. And, well, of course he would never purposely miss out on a chance to be with Harry, who in their right mind would anyway? Of course, all he needs to do is ask his parents for permission just like any other time whenever he wants to do something, unfortunately. He wonders if there'll ever be a time when he won't have to. There's no telling really at this point. He just isn't so sure.

"Mum, dad," Niall suddenly interrupts his mother mid sentence. "Is it alright if I spend some time at Harry's tonight?"

"Tonight?" His mum repeats as if she hadn't heard her son correctly. "It'll be late soon, sweetie, I–"

"Maura," Niall's dad quickly cuts her off. "Of course, Ni. You can go, that's fine."

Niall's taken by surprise when his father's words finally register in his mind, and apparently his mum is too going by the way she gasps out loud, going by the way she whispers his dad's name like she's reprimanding a child. Niall kind of wants to laugh a little right now, but ultimately he decides against it.

"Really?" Niall feels the need to make sure since his parents are never this straightforward with him at all. He really hopes this lasts. He hopes this isn't just a one time thing.

"Why not? Are you planning on staying the night?"

Wow. Niall feels like he's stuck in the middle of a dream. "Can I?" He asks.

"That's okay. It'll be dark in a few hours, anyway. Besides, it's a Friday night so I don't see the problem."

Niall's lights up then, a giant, happy smile taking over his features. Half of him wants to jump up from the sofa he's currently sitting on and start squealing like a little kid in an amusement park, while the other half thinks it'd be best if he kept his cool, if he celebrated in silence to keep his parents from asking what in the world has gotten into him all of a sudden. He's just really excited to see Harry, is all. He knows that they just got to see each other at school earlier today, but getting to start the weekend off with his boyfriend is like the icing on top of the cake. Suddenly, all the problems he's been facing revolving around his brother don't seem so big now. It's like he's already forgotten all about them.

"I'll take you to Harry's after you get your things together if you'd like." Niall's dad offers, leaving him to agree without any hesitation whatsoever before standing up and practically racing up to his room in record time. "Be careful!" His mum yells after him, but Niall ignores her comment and focuses on gathering his things now that he's made it to his bedroom.

It doesn't take long for him to do so, seeing as he knows his room (as well as the rest of his house) like the back of his hand, and soon enough he's heading back downstairs, ready and waiting to go. The faster they can leave, the faster he'll get to Harry, and really that's all he can think about at the moment. But then again, when is he ever not thinking of Harry?

He can hear his parents speaking in hushed voices when he reaches the foot of the staircase, but as soon as they realize he's in the room their conversation comes to an abrupt end. Niall hadn't been able to catch anything that they were saying, but there's no doubt in his mind that whatever it was that they were speaking about was centered around him.

"Ready to go?" His father asks after clearing his throat. Niall doesn't respond, though, only nods his head and hums, reaching up to hold onto the straps of his backpack with his familiar white cane folded up underneath his arm.

His dad starts to lead them towards the front door, but before they can finally leave, his mum pulls him aside for a brief moment, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him close. _Why are you hugging me, I'm not going to war_ , Niall wants to say, but figures it'd save him a lot of trouble if he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he sucks it up and hugs his mum back just to make her happy. "Have fun," she says when she pulls away, her hands going to rest upon her son's cheeks. _Jesus Christ_. "Tell Harry I said hello, okay?"

"Okay, ma." Niall tries not to sound so dull. He wonders if his mum has noticed at all.

Niall's finally free to leave then, once and for all. His dad leads them towards the car and before he knows it, he's climbing into the passenger side, buckling his seatbelt, and the car is being put into drive.

The ride is silent for a while, nothing but the sound of the radio playing at a low volume in the background and the car cruising down the street before Niall breaks the quiet mood that's been created. "Thanks for letting me stay at Harry's, da." He mutters, a small but still very visible smile on his face. "Mum was going to say no, wasn't she?"

Niall's dad makes a noise that tells him he's unsure how to go about the question he's just been asked. "Your mum, she's just, y'know—"

"Extremely over protective of me?" Niall scoffs. "I've been blind my whole life, dad, there's no need to watch over me like a baby. I know what I'm doing."

"She doesn't do it on purpose, you know?"

"Then why does she do it? Why is she so scared? Why can't she be more like you? You've always been the cool one out of you guys. You never worry about me. You don't treat me like a child."

"I don't _not_ worry about you, Niall." His dad lets out a quiet chuckle. "Trust me, I do sometimes, more than you think, but the difference between me and your mum is that I know that you're capable of taking care of yourself. Yeah, I worry about you, it's hard not to, but I know that you'll be okay. Your mum, she just—she gets a little paranoid. She doesn't want anything to happen to you so she thinks that overprotecting you will keep you safe, somehow."

"Well, I don't need it." Niall slumps in his seat, pouting his lips and crossing his arms across his chest like the child he wishes not to be treated like. He's still not a child, though, his frustration has just gotten the best of him. "I just want her to see that."

"She will one day. She has to."

"I hope so. I know what I'm doing, I do."

"I know, son." His dad sighs. "And I know that you've got good people around you now to help you if you don't sometimes. Like... like Harry. He's a good kid, isn't he?"

And Niall hopes that his dad hasn't noticed how his cheeks tend to heat up whenever Harry's name is so much as mentioned at all. He hopes he doesn't notice the way Niall's mood shifts whenever Harry's brought into the conversation, because that would be rather embarrassing, wouldn't it? Besides, it's a lot to explain anyway. He's not sure if he's ready to do that yet or not.

"Um," Niall hesitates, feeling the sudden urge to hide away, to pull his jacket over his face and sit huddled up into a tight ball until the moment is over. "Yeah, he's, uh, good, I guess."

"You know," there's a funny tone to his father's voice that Niall can't quite pinpoint yet. "You and Harry have gotten fairly close, haven't you?"

Niall frowns deeply, his heart starting to pound wildly in the middle of his chest. What exactly is his dad up to? "Um, I s'pose." Niall shrugs, attempting to be nonchalant. (He doesn't think it works out at all.)

"That's good," he hums to himself. "I'm glad you've found someone like Harry, Ni. I can tell he's a... special friend of yours."

Niall finds himself frowning even deeper— _what_?

"I—"

"I'm really happy that you've found a group of friends. And I can tell that you're a lot happier now, and nothing makes me happier than seeing you happy."

If he had the time to, he'd probably start to cry as stupid as that sounds, but thank god doesn't. Thank god that the car has stopped, letting Niall know that they've finally arrived at Harry's. His heart starts to beat wildly for an entirely new reason now, a reason that consists of five letters and a nice set of dimples to match.

Neither Niall nor his dad say anything else before Niall's dad is opening his door and Niall hears it slam shut seconds later. Niall's door is being opened then as soon as he gets his seatbelt unbuckled. He unfolds his cane and lets his dad guide him towards Harry's house as soon as he steps foot out of the car. It's not long before they're both stood on Harry's front porch, waiting for the door to be answered once the bell has been rung.

Niall starts to feel anxious as he awaits for Harry, starts to feel butterflies fluttering aimlessly around in his belly like it's the very first time he'll ever be around Harry. It's not, obviously, but he still gets nervous as if it is. Harry still makes Niall oh so anxious after all this time, and really, he doesn't think the feeling will ever come to an end.

And it definitely doesn't as soon as Niall hears the front door opening and the voice that he's grown to love so much fills his ears. It feels as though it's been far too long since he's heard it, when in reality it's not been that long at all. Niall's just—he's just pathetic like that, isn't he?

"Hey Niall," Harry calls out so easily, so effortlessly, making niall blush like an idiot without him even having to try. _Dammit_. "Um, hello, Mr. Horan." He greets his father afterwards. It's still so funny to Niall how Harry seems to get so nervous around his dad. He doesn't understand why, unless his dad looks awfully scary or something. He'll never be sure.

"Bobby," Niall's dad quickly corrects. "You can call me Bobby, Harry, it's fine."

"Oh, um, okay. I—"

"Well, I'll let you boys go then, I suppose." Niall's dad laughs a bit. "Niall here has been so eager to come over, wouldn't want to keep you two waiting any longer than I already have."

" _Dad_."

"You guys have fun, alright? It was nice to see you, Harry. I'll see you back at home, Ni, okay?"

"Okay." Niall mumbles into his shoulder, completely embarrassed and his cheeks blushing a deep, deep red. Was it really necessary for his dad to humiliate him like this? Absolutely not. Not at all.

"Goodnight," is the last thing Niall's father tells the two of them before he heads off. Harry makes sure to pull Niall inside, closing the front door behind them as they hear the sound of Niall's dad's car driving off.

"Eager to come over, huh?" Harry teases him the minute they're alone. He's got both of his hands on the straps of Niall's backpack now, pushing them down the lengths of his arm to pull it off entirely.

" _Shut up_ ," Niall groans out loud, letting Harry take his bag from him. "I was not. He just likes to mess about, that's all."

"Hmm," Harry hums playfully. "I'm not too sure if I'm convinced yet."

"That sounds like a personal problem."

"Such an attitude," Harry mutters as Niall feels him leaning in, closer and closer until Harry's breath hits the side of his face. "So feisty," his lips press themselves into Niall's smooth skin. "I like it."

There's a short shiver that runs through Niall's spine, that has him shaking already and Harry's hardly done anything to cause such a reaction. It's just the kind of effect Harry has on him, a huge effect. And Niall starts to turn his head in hopes that their lips will finally meet together in the middle, but unfortunately for him, Harry's quicker than he is, pulling away altogether and adding a bit of space in between where they stand. Ugh, he's such a tease.

In the end, it's okay, though, because he slips his fingers in between Niall's very own before taking the cane Niall still holds away from him and pulling them up the stairs that lead up to his bedroom.

"Mum says we can order a pizza or something if you'd like. She won't be home until late. She's got a date tonight, did I tell you that already?"

"Yup," Niall nods. "You told me."

"Oh." Harry states. "Remember when we bumped into each other at the grocery store that one time? And I told you about that guy my mum was chatting up? It's with him. I guess they've been seeing each other for a while. S'weird."

"Why?"

"'Cause," Harry says. "'Cause it's just me and my mum. It feels weird knowing that there could be someone else added to the picture one day."

Niall bites his lip, still standing in the doorway. "What about... what about your dad?"

Harry's quiet for a moment and Niall starts to regret ever asking the question. He's never heard about Harry's dad and Harry's never brought him up either, so he's not sure if it's a sensitive subject for him or not. He hopes he hasn't hit a nerve, though. He hopes he hasn't caused anything just because he's brought the topic up now.

"He's around, I guess." Harry ends up telling Niall. He can't pinpoint the tone of his voice yet, so he can't be too sure of Harry's reaction so far. He doesn't sound sad or angry, though, so Niall takes that as a good sign. Phew. "I mean, he lives a few hours away. I see him like once a year, though. My parents have been divorced ever since I can remember."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Niall doesn't know if that's the right thing to say or not.

"S'okay, Niall," Harry starts to laugh a little. "I'm not sad about it. It's been this way for a while now, and I don't even remember ever seeing my parents together anyway, so it doesn't hurt much."

"But don't you wish you could be together more? Don't you miss him?"

"Sometimes." Harry shrugs. "But I don't really think about my dad that much. I feel like I can't want something I never had."

Niall finds himself frowning at Harry's last comment, but he doesn't say anything about it. If he's honest, it kind of doesn't make sense to him; doesn't everybody want something they don't have? He wants to ask, but he doesn't want to make this conversation into a big deal, and apparently Harry doesn't either if going by the way he brings up the pizza again says anything. So Niall lets it go in the end. Just nods his head and agrees that yeah, pizza does sound good right now. It sounds great.

***

If Niall could, he'd probably stay with Harry forever. If he could, he'd never leave his side, but that's sort of impossible so he's left with having to be grateful that they can at least see each other whenever they want pretty much. It would be nice though, being able to just be with Harry without ever having to separate. Because Harry's his favorite person, he's the only person who makes him feel completely whole without even having to try. Harry is just so effortless, and the way he makes niall feel, God, it's like none other.

And they're sitting side by side in the middle of the floor in Harry's living room, legs spread out in front of them lazily while their backs rest up against the sofa behind them. The pizza they ordered not too long ago is basically gone by now, save for a few leftover pieces, and their lips are sweet and sugary from the sodas they drank to wash down the cheesiness they've consumed. Niall can't help but wonder what Harry's mouth tastes like now, can't help but wonder if he'd still be able to make out the flavor if they were to lock lips.

The tv plays softly in the background, nothing but a simple humming with the volume left on the lowest level. Harry had asked Niall if he wanted to watch something, only to remember seconds later that it would be quite literally impossible for him to do such a thing. Of course, Niall didn't mind Harry's little slip up at all, but that didn't stop him from apologizing for five minutes straight. Niall won't complain, though, because the kisses he received in return were enough to make him forget about the whole thing entirely. He's a simple man, really. It doesn't take much to win him over, especially when it comes to boys named Harry Styles. He just can't help it.

Eventually, Niall finds himself sliding over until he's crowed up into Harry's space because apparently it's physically impossible for him to go certain amounts of time without touching Harry in some kind of way. It's just inevitable, really. Niall was bound to find himself wrapped around Harry like he is now, arms wound firmly around Harry's torso, his head falling against Harry's shoulder—actually, he's surprised he hadn't been curled around Harry before until now. He's surprised that it's actually taken him this long.

"Miss me?" Harry asks playfully as he lifts his hand up until his fingers find themselves carding through the blond strands on top of Niall's head. It's so nice like this; everything always feels so nice with Harry.

Niall pushes his face further into the crook of Harry's neck. "Yeah," he blurts out, completely unashamed. He doesn't mind whether or not he sounds too desperate because it's true and he has missed Harry despite them literally being right next to each other for quite some time now. "Yeah, I do."

"You're crazy."

But Niall only shrugs in response because it's true and they both know it, too. They're both just as equally crazy for each other that it balances everything out. It's good to know that they're both on the same page, though. It's refreshing to know that they both know exactly how the other feels when it comes to one another.

There's a bit of a muted pause for a moment as conversation falls short between the couple. Niall revels in the way Harry's chest rises and falls as he breathes underneath his body, the way his fingers continue to trace delicate skin making Niall's body shiver underneath his touch and his heart beat like none other in his chest. Every little thing that Harry does makes him feel ways he's never felt before, ways he thought he'd never get to feel in his lifetime. And maybe that's what he likes most about Harry and the relationship they share, that he gets to experience things he never thought he'd be able to, that he gets to feels emotions he never knew even existed, that he gets to try things out for the first time all with the one person he's grown to care so much for over the past few months. And it's amazing, really, it's amazing how far he's come since meeting Harry. It's amazing how far he'll get as long as they stay by each other's sides. Which he hopes they do, he hopes what they have will last for a long time.

Maybe he'll wish for a forever one day, but for now he'll take it one step at a time.

"How's..." Harry starts off, gaining Niall's attention once again after the brief period of silence that overcame them. "How's everything?" His thumb glides along the shell of Niall's ear as he speaks. "I mean, with the whole brother situation? Is everything okay?"

And, well, yeah it is, so to speak, but niall isn't really in the mood to have this conversation right now. He wanted to get away from the whole situation, that's why he was so eager to come over to Harry's all of a sudden, not have it all follow him around everywhere he goes like a stray cat looking for a home. It shouldn't be so bad, though, because sometimes talking things over with Harry makes him feel better about it all. Maybe he'll leave with a different mindset about everything than he came in with.

"I'm trying not to think too much about it, I guess. I'm still really scared, though. I really don't know what's going to happen. I just want it to be over with already."

"'M sorry," Harry gives Niall's temple a quick peck. "Maybe I shouldn't have brought it up."

"S'okay, Harry. Really."

"Just wanna make sure everything's okay. You are okay, right?"

"Yes," Niall can't help the way his lips curve up into an easy smile. It's all Harry's fault, really. He kind of makes him do these kind of things without even realizing it. "And I'm sure I'll be fine, too. But if I'm not, you always find a way to make it feel like I am, so as long as you're here I don't think I have to worry about much."

"Cheeseball." Harry snorts out a laugh before playfully shoving at Niall's shoulder until he falls to the side.

"You love cheese, according to the extra amount you ordered on the pizza."

"I'm lactose intolerant."

Niall wonders if Harry feels proud for making him laugh out loud like he is now. Niall's eyes crinkle at the sides, his mouth wide as boisterous laughs leave his mouth. "You're such an idiot, Jesus Christ."

"You must really like idiots according how much you put up with me."

"Eh," Niall shrugs jokingly. "You're alright, I suppose."

And he feels Harry's body crouching over his own all of a sudden, and he's given absolutely no warning whatsoever before Harry's leaning down and peppering his entire face with sweet kisses until his mouth ends up at the one place they both feel like they belong the most, right against Niall's very own.

Of course Niall loses all train of thought, thinking and hearing and feeling nothing else but Harry and Harry only just like he always seems to be doing anyway, bringing his hands up to latch onto whichever part of Harry's that he can get his hands onto first. Fingers clutch onto the front of Harry's shirt, holding on tight as if he never, ever wants to let go. Niall pulls Harry in eagerly, just like how Harry seems to tug on every single one of Niall's heartstrings, closer until his body ends up collapsing right on top of his own. Breathy laughs escape from sealed lips until there's nothing but teeth and smiles blocking the way.

"Believe me, that's a compliment coming from you." Harry speaks in hushed breaths above Niall where their lips still brush against each other's in the middle. Niall feels like his heart is on the verge of exploding in the middle of his chest. "I'll take it," Harry finishes, and if he keeps this up, maybe Niall's heart just might.


	29. Twenty-eight

**Harry**

**Mum**  
How are you and Niall so far? Having fun? I'll be home soon in about 30 minutes. x

Harry glances down at the notification that pops up on his screen after being interrupted by a smooth buzzing sound, eyes quickly scanning over the words his mum has just sent him in a text. He's got his back posted up against the wall where he sits on top of his bed with Niall's head resting in his lap while he uses one hand to gently card his fingers through the blond strands that he's become so familiar with, holding his phone up to his face with the other.

"What was that?" Niall hums softly, making Harry's insides tingle just from the sound of his voice alone. He looks so peaceful and calm, so effortless as he lays across Harry's thighs—he's such a sight to see, really. Harry doesn't think he's ever seen someone as beautiful as Niall is. He doesn't think anyone else could quite compare anyway.

Harry continues to massage his fingers through Niall's scalp, like his hand has a mind of its own and it just can't help itself. "Just my mum," Harry answers, keeping his voice low and pleasant to match the aura that hovers around the two of them. "She sent me a text."

"Oh." Niall utters while subconsciously nuzzling his face into Harry's legs. Harry drags his fingers down from where they've been placed on top of Niall's head until they rest against rosy cheeks, his thumb kindly grazing against delicate skin. It almost looks as if Niall is trying to keep himself from purring because of Harry's touch. He's just the cutest thing, Harry thinks, isn't he? He doesn't think there's anyone else out there cuter.

"She should be home soon." Harry announces as he replies to the message his mother's sent him. He lets her know that he and Niall are doing fine and having fun just as they usually are. "I wonder how her date went."

"Well, I hope."

Harry nods slowly, somewhat lost in thought when he replies, "Yeah, me too."

It's still so weird to think about the possibility of his mum being with someone else, the possibility of someone new joining their tiny family, but he supposes there's not much he should actually be worrying about at all. He's never seen his mum with anyone else since his dad, he's not sure how he's supposed to take everything in, but then again knowing that his mother hasn't been with anyone else in such a long is a good thing, maybe. In the end, though, nothing else matters but the fact his mum seems happy at the moment, and if the guy she's been seeing is the source of her happiness, well, Harry sees no problem at all. It's still weird in his eyes, but it's not foreign. It's just life, that's all it is.

And speaking of going on dates, Harry still has one up his sleeve planned out for Niall, he suddenly remembers. He wishes it could've happened already, but things got in the way so the idea had been pushed aside for the time being. He's not sure when he can bring the plans back up again, either. Maybe he can try to make it happen after Niall's brother comes into town next week. Maybe a date will help Niall take his mind off everything if things happen to not work out in the correct way. He's not one hundred percent sure as of now, but it's okay. Everything's good. He'll figure something out soon, he always does.

"I think my dad knows about you." Niall reveals out of nowhere, it seems. He starts to turn around where he lays against Harry until the two of them are face to face, Niall's nose pointing fairly close to the button on Harry's jeans. Harry tries not to pay attention to that part much; if he does, he's not sure how everything will go on from here on out without being too awkward. Because he's sure it would get a bit embarrassing on his part. Embarrassment is pretty much in his nature by now.

And Harry snorts, frowning down at Niall with a confused smile sitting pretty on his lips while his fingers stop the motion they've created against his cheeks. "Well, I would like to hope so." Harry laughs a little, sarcasm sitting heavily on his tongue. "We do hang out quite a bit, Ni. Plus, I have met him multiple times before if you haven't realized."

"No, you dork," Niall swats a hand Harry's way. "I meant about us, not you in general."

"Oh," Harry mutters. "Um, is that—did you tell him?"

"No. I think he just figured out on his own. I kind of got the idea that he did in the car ride on the way over here."

"What do you mean?"

Niall pats around in front of him all of a sudden, making Harry's face scrunch up in confusion until he realizes what Niall's trying to do when his fingers come in contact with Harry's own and he puts their hands up against each other's. "I don't know, he just started talking about how I've got good people around me now and how close we've gotten to each other."

"Really?" Harry's eyebrows shoot up to the top of his head as he glances down at the way Niall absentmindedly toys with his fingers.

"Yeah." Niall nods. "He said he can tell you're a 'special friend of mine'."

" _Oh God_."

"Yeah, I know. It was embarrassin'."

Special friend? Who even says stuff like that anyway?

Yeah, Niall's dad definitely knows about them. Not that it matters anyway since Harry's aware that Niall was going to spill the beans at some point in time. At least it won't be as awkward when he does end up telling him officially, right?

"You're not upset about that, are you? I mean, like, I know how you said you wanted to wait a bit before you told your parents, yeah?"

Niall shrugs like it's nothing, which in his mind it probably isn't. That's a good thing, Harry supposes. "I don't really care. It's not like I'm scared about them finding out. S'not like they can do anything about it anyway."

"You're such a bad boy." Harry's lips slowly start to curve upwards until he's full on grinning. God, he just really likes Niall a lot. He likes him so much that it feels as if there's not enough space in his heart to contain his feelings at all. Wow. "What's gotten into you, huh?"

"Somehow, you've influenced me. I don't know how, but this is all you're fault. You've corrupted me."

"I've corrupted you?" Harry can't stop smiling. He can feel the burn right in his cheeks. "So this is all my fault now?"

"Yeah," Niall's lips start to turn up into a smile of their own. He's so beautiful, Harry thinks to himself. The absolute prettiest. "You're a horrible influence on me. The worst."

Just as Harry's about to lean forward and maybe snog that cheeky smile right off of his boyfriend's lips, he hears a car pulling up to the driveway at the front of his house, signaling that his mum is finally home for the night and back from her date. Harry sighs, deciding to press a short but tender kiss to the top of Niall's head before he announces, "Mum's here," and goes to help Niall sit up straight.

Now that he thinks about it, he wouldn't exactly mind if his mum found out about his relationship either, but he'd rather not have her finding out by walking in on her son having an intense make out session his best friend. Now that—that wouldn't be so ideal. That wouldn't be a fitting situation to be stuck in the middle of at all. Harry's cheeks start to heat up at the very thought of that ever happening at all.

Soon enough, they hear the front door opening and closing downstairs, followed by footsteps climbing up the staircase moments later and before they know it, Harry's bedroom door is being open and his mother's head pokes through the small opening she's created.

"Hiya, boys," she greets the both of them cheerfully, a big, wide smile evident on her face. And she looks so happy that Harry can't help but smile back just as wide. He takes it she had a good night just like he hoped she would've. That alone makes him feel really good. There's nothing better in his eyes that seeing your mum smile. "How's it going?"

"Good, mum," Harry answers happily with Niall nodding along in agreement beside him. "How'd it go for you?"

"Really nice." She says; Harry can tell. "But your mum's a bit knackered now. 'M getting a bit too old to be staying out past eight o'clock."

Niall surprises both Harry and his mum when the sound of bubbly giggles leave from between closed lips. His hands fly up to quickly cover up his mouth then, but by now it's too late to hide. His laugh's already been heard loud and clear. Harry kind of wants to kiss him senseless all of a sudden now. Maybe he will once his mum heads off to bed.

"I guess I'll head off now." She shakes her head fondly, laughing a bit to herself. "Don't stay up too late, alright?"

"We won't." Harry insists, but oh, they probably will.

"Mhm." Harry's mum hums, not buying Harry's words at all. "Have a goodnight, you two."

"'Night, mum," Harry calls out at the same time that Niall's wishes his goodnights as well. And that's it before his mum is closing his door again and they're left alone for the rest of the night.

And Harry wastes no time hovering over his boyfriend's body, hands flying up to cup Niall's face in between both palms as he leans in closer until there's barely any room left between them and their lips crash together in the middle almost as if Harry's been waiting far too long for this moment to come. It hasn't been that long, of course, but to Harry it feels like it's been years.

The good thing about it, too, is how Niall doesn't even question Harry's abrupt motives. He just goes along with the flow, reaches up to fist the front of Harry's shirt between his fingers and kisses him back like he was put on this very earth for the sole purpose of doing just that. And they kiss in a way that they normally don't, quick and a bit rushed and a little hastily, but it's so good and it's so different than anything they're used to with each other.

The noises Niall makes that come from the back of his throat and the sounds their mouths create against each other's start to make Harry feel a little insane, but it's nothing he isn't exactly used to yet. Harry often feels like he's going crazy when it comes to anything related to Niall, so this really isn't anything new to him at all. But every time he's around his favorite boy, each time it seems like Harry feels something deep down that he's never felt before. Everyday is a new experience for him, for Niall, too, for sure, and honestly, it's pretty fucking awesome. Harry always feels so awesome around Niall. Like—like he's floating on top of the clouds above and he's souring through the big, blue skies. He's never felt such a way before, but he's glad he gets to feel it with Niall. There's no one else he'd love to share these moments with but him. No one else at all.

Harry pulls away eventually, pressing a few last kisses to Niall's mouth before he does. And his smile is wide, Niall's is, too, and it's probably the best feeling in the world. It just has to be.

"What was that for?" Niall questions around a chuckle, but the way he's looking right about now tells Harry that he doesn't really mind. Of course he doesn't.

"Dunno," Harry lifts a shoulder, caressing the side of Niall's face with gentle fingers. "You're just too cute. I couldn't help myself."

" _Stop_." Niall blushes harshly, attempting to hide his face away behind the palms of his hands but it's no use, for Harry grabs at his wrists, stopping his actions before they can happen. He lets go, then, only to tangle their fingers together on both hands before climbing off of Niall's body and cuddling into his side.

"Alright." Harry lets out a breathy laugh, leaning back in to brush his lips against Niall's cheek and skim his nose across his skin.

" _Harry_ ," Niall whines, scrunching his face up in a weird way and pushing Harry away. "That tickles!"

"It does?" Harry feigns clueless as he purposely moves back in to rub his nose against Niall's cheek again. The smirk he wears never leaves his lips. "I am _so sorry._ "

"You're literally the worst."

"If 'the worst' is code word for 'the best' then I guess I am, aren't I?"

"I can't believe I'm dating an actual idiot." Niall mutters underneath his breath, but the grin he wears lets Harry know that he doesn't really mind.

***

Harry always wondered at the back of his mind what it'd be like to be able to properly fall asleep next to Niall, and now he doesn't exactly have to wonder anymore. It's different compared to the last time they spent the night with each other at Louis' place seeing as they had the sleeping bags they'd slept in that night to separate them, creating a barrier between their bodies that kept them from being as close as they possibly could. It's different because instead of only sharing the same pillow that night, their foreheads and noses pressed together in the middle, now Harry can actually hold Niall like he's wanted to do all along. And that's how they find themselves as they begin to wind down for the night, curled up against each other's bodies, Harry's arms wrapped securely around Niall's waist and Niall's head resting against the other's chest like he's so used to doing.

The lights have been shut off by now, nothing but the moonlight left to add a faint glow to the area around them. Harry's hand finds itself underneath the t-shirt that Niall wears, his palm running along the span of Niall's back and causing shivers to run through his spine. Niall says nothing, though, and Harry knows he would've if he wasn't comfortable with what's happening at the moment at all. Instead, his hand ends up resting against the side of Harry's face, his fingers exploring each and every one of his features like he wants to remember every bit of Harry that he possibly can by heart.

Niall's fingers trace the slope of Harry's nose, prod and poke at his cheeks in the most tender way, glide along the eyebrows that shape his face, curl into the silky tendrils that grow out of his scalp. It feels nice, Harry thinks. He knows this is Niall's way of 'seeing' him, so whatever he can give Niall, he'll let him take as much as he needs. It's the least he can do, really.

"Harry?" Niall calls out in the softest voice he can manage. It's always weird speaking out loud while you're in the dark for some reason.

"Hmm?"

"Don't freak out, okay?"

"Why would I freak out?" Harry frowns, stopping the movement of his hand across Niall's waist. He starts to get a bit nervous, then, not knowing what it is that Niall could possibly say next. It can't be a good thing, right, or else there would be no reason for him to freak out, right? Suddenly, Harry isn't sure if he wants to know what Niall will say next. His heart starts to pound excessively with unwanted anticipation.

"Just—just don't, okay? Promise me."

"Ni, you're kind of freaking me out already, babe. What are you even on about anyw—"

"Please?"

And, well, Harry's never really been one to turn Niall down, has he? He doesn't even think he's capable of doing so if he's being completely honest with himself.

"Alright," Harry agrees without hesitation. "Okay. Promise."

"I just..." Niall trails off, subconsciously gliding his fingertips along the shape of Harry's lips. "I don't know how to say it."

"You can tell me, yeah?" Harry murmurs, bringing his hand up to smooth some of Niall's hair away from his face. He looks so soft underneath his touch.

"I know." Niall nods as his eyebrows settle into a little frown. Harry can't help but smooth away some of the lines that form on his forehead.

Harry watches Niall carefully, looks down at him as he goes silent for a moment, nothing but the sounds of their steady breaths filling up the emptiness that surrounds them. Harry starts to ponder about what's really on his boy's mind at the moment, wants nothing more than to be inside his head just to get a glimpse of whatever thoughts he's carrying inside.

"I just," Niall starts up again just as Harry was beginning to contemplate whether he should break the silence or not. "I... I wanna know what you feel like."

And Harry sucks in a short breath once he hears what Niall's just said, brows forming into a frown of their own because, "What?" He asks out loud, not quite understanding what Niall means when he says 'feel you'.

" _Harry_." Niall begs, obviously embarrassed with the conversation they're currently having. He would coo at how cute Niall looks all flustered and pink and nervous like he is now, but he's still so confused about the entire situation. What is going on? "You know what I'm trying to say here."

"I do?" He does? Well, that's news to him, that's for sure.

Niall groans out loud as his face screws up in a weird way. "Yes, Harry, you do."

And Harry thinks about it, repeats what Niall's just told him over and over again in his mind until it finally settles in, and—oh. Oh. _Oh_. That's what—that's really what he meant? Harry doesn't really know what the proper thing to say back is yet. Actually, he's not even sure if he remembers how to breathe correctly anymore if he's one hundred honest.

"You..." Harry comes off a little breathless. "You want that? With—with me?"

"No, with the guy behind you. Of course with you, you idiot. Who else would I ask that to?"

And, well. At least he's still got his sense of humor. Harry, on the other hand, he's still very much at a loss for words. But then again, when is he ever not?

Harry snorts out a humorless laugh, furrowing his eyebrows once again. "Um, I. Niall, I—"

"I'm sorry." Niall quickly interrupts. "I'm sorry, I just made it really weird now, you probably don't—I shouldn't have brought that up. I'm sorry." He goes to turn away from Harry, quickly starts to flip himself over so that his back will be facing Harry's when he does, but Harry moves a bit faster, gripping Niall's waist a bit tighter and keeping him from moving any further than he already has.

"Ni, stop, it's okay." Harry insists, keeping his voice calm and steady so that Niall knows he's being completely serious with him. "It's not that I don't want that—" because who in their right mind would turn down something like this, especially with the one person they care most about in this world, the one person they feel like they can't really be without? "I just. Are you sure? Like, I don't want you to—you don't have to, y'know, I—"

"I _want_ to. Don't you want to, too?"

And, God, _yes_ , of course he does, but this is a really big step for him, for both of them honestly, and he doesn't want anything to go wrong. And maybe it's not that big of a deal, maybe it's not that serious, but maybe it kind of is especially when it comes to two people who've never done anything like this before. Maybe he's just extremely nervous overall, maybe he feels like he's on the verge of losing all capability of breathing all of a sudden, but he's not totally opposed to the idea. Of course he's not, it's fucking Niall for crying out loud. He's down for anything when it comes to him. Anything at all.

"Yeah," Harry breathes out, slowly moving forward until his forehead gently knocks into Niall's. "Yeah, I think I do."

Niall giggles like it's the funniest thing in the world. "You think?" He says, and being able to feel his smile against Harry's very own makes him feel all fuzzy inside. Oh my God, Niall's the one for him, he's so sure of it.

"Yeah," Harry laughs along. "I think."

There's another short giggle that escapes from Niall's mouth before he closes the tiny gap left in between them to place his lips right above Harry's. His mouth pushes up against Harry's, but he doesn't move them properly, just continues to press little, brief kisses to his lips until Harry's smile starts to widen and he can't help himself anymore. There's a palm that rests against Niall's cheek, a voice that tells him what he feels for him, that says, "You mean a lot to me, you know that, right? You really do."

And just saying that out loud makes Harry's heart feel like it's come to its wit's end, like it'll just give out at any moment now because there's just so much inside that it cannot contain any longer. But it's a good thing, for sure. It feels really good.

Niall kisses him appropriately this time, kisses him like they've got all the time in the world saved up just for them. And it feels like they do, really. Time feels infinite whenever they're with each other. Harry's never felt such a way before. He's not sure if he ever will again, either.

Niall's fingers are hesitant as his hand fits in between their bodies. They tremble with unwanted nerves, shake anxiously as they fiddle with the hem of Harry's shirt. Harry notices his behavior, so he fits his hand between them as well, fingers in search of Niall's own so that they can cross together, so that they can hold on tight to try and ease Niall's jitters. " _Slow._ " Harry mumbles lowly. "There's no rush, okay?"

And Niall nods with no hesitation, takes in a deep breath to try and calm himself down. And he may be a little nervous, of course he is, he's never done this before in his life, but he's still oh so confident in himself, Harry realizes, and that alone is something to admire, really. That alone is enough.

"Okay?" Harry repeats once he presses another kiss to Niall's lips.

"Okay."

Eventually, after getting lost in each other's mouths for a bit longer, Niall's fingers are at his waist again, only this time he's not shaking as much as before. He fiddles with the strings that hold the joggers Harry wears up, tugging slowly until the knot that ties them together comes loose. Harry's breath hitches the more Niall does, and already he can tell he's probably not going to last all that long. He already wants to lose all control just from having Niall so close to him like he is now. Wow, Jesus Christ, he's so gone.

His mind goes hazy the second Niall's hand dips into the front of his pants. He's never had anyone's hand down there except for his own before, and he's not sure what to think about everything right now. He's not sure what to expect either, but he knows it'll be something good since Niall is the one he's doing it with. Even if he's complete shit at it, Harry will probably still think it's the best ever. Everything Niall does is the best to him, really. He deserves to be put on such a high pedestal anyway just for being him.

Niall's touch feels heavenly once he properly gets a hand around him. His mouth goes slack against Niall's, eyes screwing shut as Niall's fingers glide alongside sensitive skin. He's already so wet and leaking for Niall, probably has been since the very minute Niall brought the idea up to him. The grip Niall has on him is a bit too hesitant for his liking, and Harry wants to tell him that he doesn't have to be so shy, that he can do more, it's okay, but the words get lodged in his throat. He can't think properly at the moment, let alone speak when Niall's got a hold on him like this. It's too much, but at the same time it's not nearly enough.

And much to Harry's luck, Niall's hand stops its motion, and Harry has to keep himself from whining out loud because of it. "Can I... can I taste you?" Niall's voice is timid and soft when the question comes out. Jesus fucking Christ, Harry's not sure if he's going to make it after this. How's he supposed to go on when Niall's like this? Oh God.

" _Shit_ ," Harry hisses like it hurts. "Yeah, yeah, if that's—yeah, if that's what you want."

And apparently Niall does want because he wastes no time pulling his hand out of Harry's pants before pulling the covers off of their bodies and sinking down further until he's face to face with Harry's waistline. Harry's throat goes dry the second Niall gets his hands back on him, chest starts to feel tight when Niall starts to tug at the waistband of his pants. Harry tries not to gasp at the feeling of the cool air around them hitting his hard length, but he can't help it. He looks down at Niall, notices the way his eyebrows scrunch together with such concentration. If it weren't for the look on Niall's face right about now, Harry would think he's done this before, but it's clear that he hasn't. Niall is hesitant as he moves, timid and unsure it seems, like he's at a loss of what step to take next. It's okay, though. Harry would probably feel the same way if their roles were reversed.

Niall starts to jerk Harry off again with a tentative hand, making Harry feel like he's gone mad all over again. He's slow when he leans in a bit closer, when he presses a kiss to Harry's tip, but time feels like it's going faster than usual, like it's gaining speed and Harry can't keep up anymore. He licks the underside of Harry's cock, starting from the bottom and ending up at the top, and before Harry can fully prepare himself, he's closing his mouth around him altogether and sinking down as far as he can possibly go. It's kind of messy, too; Niall's very sloppy with his mouth and uncoordinated and all over the place, really, but Harry can't find the will to care at all. And Harry's not received many blowjobs to compare this moment to, he never has actually, but to him it doesn't get much better than this. He knows he only thinks that because it's Niall and because this is his first one ever, but he doesn't care. He doesn't care if Niall's complete shit at what he's currently doing, he'd take this in a heartbeat over anything else every single time.

Harry's breaths are unsteady at this point, chest rising and falling rapidly the closer he feels to falling over the edge. The noises he makes at the back of his throat seem to give Niall more confidence, the boost that he probably wishes he would've had when they first started. He groans and whines and pants from complete pleasure, hands quickly flying up to hold the sides of Niall's face, to card his fingers through his short, blond waves before gently tugging at his roots.

" _Ni_ ," Harry whimpers quietly, opening his eyes again to get a glimpse of the boy down in front of him. God, he looks so pretty like this, cheeks red and flushed, moonlight illuminating his features, with his mouth wrapped around Harry's prick the way it is. Harry's stomach clenches at the sight, knows he won't be able to hold it in that much longer. "I'm gonna—'m so close."

And Niall pulls off completely then and Harry starts to feel bare without the warmth of his mouth enclosed around him anymore. His fingers still glide alongside his length, though, and all it takes for Harry's walls to come down are a few more tugs before he's coming, spurting out in white hot strands that land all over Niall's closed fist, a little bit landing on his bottom lip and dripping down his chin where he's still so close to Harry's member.

" _Oh_." Niall mumbles like he's in complete shock, causing Harry to sit up straighter, still cradling Niall's face in between large hands.

"Sorry, sorry," Harry doesn't hesitate to apologize, reaching over to grab a dirty t-shirt that apparently hadn't made it into the hamper after he took it off whenever he wore it. Niall's quick to dismiss him, though, shaking his head a bit as he gives Harry a tiny smile. "S'okay, Harry," he chuckles to himself. Harry stares down at him as if he's just so happened to grow a second head out of nowhere as he helps wipe away the mess he's created with his t-shirt. He really is something else. "I said I wanted to taste you, right?"

And Harry groans out loud, squeezes his eyes shut and falling back onto his bed and covering his face with his hand because Niall drives him so crazy, drives him so mad that he just can't take it anymore. How he's still alive to this day is a miracle to Harry. He's not sure how he's even made it this far. "Who are you and what have you done with the Niall I met in the hallway all those months ago?"

Niall cackles out loud, falling over to the side when he does. Harry will never get over the way hearing niall laugh makes him feel inside, how his stomach starts to flutter like there's a million butterflies trapped inside his body, how he feels fuzzy all around just from being able to make Niall happy the way he is now. It'll never sink in, he doesn't think. He'll always feel brand new every time.

"He's still here," Niall ends up answering. "Just a whole lot cheekier this time around."

"I like cheeky." Harry grins, adjusting his body until he and Niall are side by side again, face to face, chest to chest like it should always be. "It's a good look on you."

Harry moves forward then, pressing a firm kiss to Niall's cheek. His hand ends up on the small of Niall's back, pushing him in until they can't get any closer. "Do you want me to—" Harry starts as his fingers start to fiddle with Niall's waistband, but the blond stops him with a shake of his head, reaching down remove his fingers from where they rest at his hip.

"S'okay," Niall tells him, letting his head lay on top of Harry's chest. Niall snuggles into his body, eyes closed and a small but very content looking smile on his lips. "Maybe another time."

Harry doesn't argue since it seems as though Niall's already made up his mind. He just wraps his arms around Niall tighter, pulls the covers back up and tucks it around their bodies, leaving a sweet, tender kiss upon Niall's temple before he closes his eyes as well and lets their night come to an official end.


	30. Twenty-nine

**Niall**

When Niall wakes up the next morning, Harry's arms are draped loosely around his waist and those lips he's become oh so familiar with are pressing themselves into the back of his neck, making a quick shiver run down his spine and tiny goosebumps rise on his skin. He listens to Harry's breathing, smooth and steady, before he hears the words 'good morning' fall from his lips. Niall can't help but smile, then, can't stop his heart from racing and his stomach from feeling like it's going to twirl right out of his body, because Harry usually makes him feel like this and he should be used to it by now seeing as it happens so often, but he's just not. He'll never get over the way Harry makes him feel; he thinks he'll always feel like he's stuck in the middle of a dream as long as they're with each other.

"Hi." Niall calls back, keeping his voice low as it always feels necessary to be quiet in the mornings for him. He's not completely sure why. "What time is it?"

"Nine-ish, maybe?" He can feel Harry shrug behind him. "Dunno."

Niall hums in response. "Have you been awake this whole time?" He asks.

"For a bit." Harry answers. "You snore in your sleep, d'you know that?"

Niall scoffs because no, no he doesn't snore. He doesn't snore at all, Harry doesn't know what he's talking about. "I do not." He insists, but something deep down inside tells him that he might just be wrong. Of course he is.

"Yes you do. You're so cute. You're like a little puppy or something. Or, like, like a kitten. Yeah, a kitten."

"Harry, I do not snore."

"But you do, babe. I should've recorded you so I'd have some proof to back me up."

"Or so you could use it as blackmail." Niall frowns, pouts a little as he pretends to be annoyed, but he and Harry both know he's far from that. They both know this is nothing but banter between the two of them, it's all in good fun. "Wait—were you watching me in my sleep?"

Harry hesitates a bit, and that alone tells Niall what his answer is before he even says anything. Harry is such a sap, honestly. But Niall shamelessly loves it, wouldn't trade it in for the world even if he could.

"No..." Harry says like he's unsure of himself, which only makes the smile Niall wears on his face grow wider.

"You _were_ watching me!" Niall starts to laugh out loud, and when he does Harry lets out an embarrassing groan, tipping his head forward until it lands to rest on Niall's shoulder. "You weirdo."

"You just looked so peaceful." Harry mumbles against Niall's skin, making his words sound a bit muffled. "Plus, you aren't really that hard on the eyes, either, so."

Niall chuckles loud enough to be heard, and he wants nothing more than to be able to tell Harry the same thing, but it's a bummer because he knows that he can't and he knows that he'll never be able to, either. Which sucks because he wants to be able to tell Harry how beautiful he thinks he is, wants Harry to be able to know exactly how he feels just by looking into his eyes, wants to know exactly what Harry looks like when they're together, when Harry tells him how much he means to him, wants to get lost in the color of Harry's irises, but it sucks knowing he'll never be able to witness everything he'd give up the world to be able to. Because he'd do anything just to get a glimpse of the person he's already fallen so hard for, he wouldn't even hesitate. He wouldn't ask for anything more.

"I wish I could say the same." Niall mutters sadly, and no he doesn't mean to ruin the good moment they've been sharing with his negativity, with his self depreciating thoughts, but sometimes he can't help himself. Sometimes life just gets to him and he doesn't know what else to do other than be vocal about the things he has to deal with on a daily basis.

There's a long exhale of breath that Harry releases from his nose that Niall feels hit the back of his arm where Harry's head still rests upon his shoulder. There's fingers that glide alongside his waist, that hold him closer and let Niall know that Harry's here for him, he is, without him verbally having to say anything out loud. That alone makes Niall feel a little better, but he's still a bit down about not being able to see the one person that he's grown to care about the most.

It's the worst thing ever, he thinks. Not being able to see his own boyfriend like he so desperately wishes he could. Sometimes it makes Niall wonder what he ever did to deserve such a disability as his. Why did the universe pick him to be cursed with such an unfortunate disadvantage? He supposes he'll never know.

"Can you turn around, Niall?" Harry requests with a tender voice, and Niall wants to say no, would rather Harry not see what he looks like right about now, but it's so hard to say no to a person like Harry. He finds it funny how a blind man can be insecure about his own looks when he doesn't even know what he looks like himself. He's just a little backwards.

Niall does turn over until he's laying on his other side, until he's face to face with Harry again for the first time since the night before. He can feel Harry's eyes on him, watching him like a hawk with furrowed eyebrows probably, and it makes him feel a little self conscious so he finds himself tilting his head down until his chin meets up with his chest. " _Niall_." Harry begs, pleads like his whole life depends on it, before he's got a hand on the blond's face and his thumb glides along his cheek, leaving a trail of blushing pink in its way. "C'mon, it's okay."

But is it? Niall doesn't feel like it is at the moment. He only feels miserable, angry at himself for some reason even though he knows none of this is his fault. It's not his fault that he's blind, it's not his fault that he'll never be able to see in his life, but sometimes he can't help but feel like it is. And he knows it's a stupid thought to have, but he can't stop himself from thinking it.

But Harry's so good, and even when Niall feels down like he does now, Harry's always right there to pick him back up again. Harry's always there to make Niall feel better, to make him feel safe, to make him feel like he's worth something in this cruel world they live in. He's not sure what he'd do without him at this point. He's not sure who he'd be at this point if Harry never would've planted himself in his life. He doesn't like thinking about that possibility. He doesn't like the way that idea settles in his bones.

"I don't like seeing you like this. It doesn't feel so good."

"I'm sorry." And he is. He's so sorry for making Harry feel this way. He wouldn't like to see Harry this way either if their roles were reversed. It'd probably feel worse than wound ever could. The two feelings probably couldn't even compare. "I'm sorry if I ruin everything."

"Niall," Harry's voice is hard and stern as if he's trying to make his point clear. "Don't say that. You don't ruin anything and you never will. If anything you make everything better. You just—you're like the sunshine that brightens everyone's day. You couldn't ruin anything even if you tried."

Harry's fingers brushing through Niall blond strands make him feel better along with the words of encouragement he's just sent his way. And this is exactly what he means when he wonders what he'd do if Harry weren't around to lift him up like he's currently doing. Niall feels like he doesn't deserve someone like Harry, like Harry's far too good for him, but he also feels like the luckiest boy in the entire world. He supposes he is, though. He doesn't think there's anyone out there like Harry. And even if there is, he'd still choose Harry over the rest. He'd be mad to ever let him go.

"You are so beautiful, Ni, I mean it." Harry leans forward to press a kiss to the center of Niall's forehead. He's starting to feel like his heart is going to burst into a million and one pieces at any given moment now. And if it does, at least it'll happen while being held within Harry's arms. "I just want you to know that even if you can't physically see it. I don't want you to think that it's only what's on the outside that counts. I don't care that you can't see, I care about _you_."

"It's not only about that, Harry." Niall shakes his head. "It just hurts that I'll never be able to see you. It sucks that I can't even see what my own boyfriend looks like."

Niall can tell that Harry's at a loss for words going by the silence that overcomes the both of them. But it's okay because Niall didn't expect him to know the right words to say at all. He knows that Harry is there for him and he knows he'll always be, too, no matter what so it's okay if he doesn't say anything else back. It's okay because he's said and done enough already, ever since that first day they met each other and Niall is sure he'll continue to do that for however long they last. That's all Niall needs really. Harry alone is enough.

"I'm sorry." Harry apologizes sincerely as his thumb glides along the curve of Niall's eyebrow. "I know that's probably not enough for me to say, but I am."

 _It's okay_ , Niall wants to say, but he doesn't. Instead, he scoots his body over until he's closer to Harry, until he can wrap his arms around Harry's lean frame and he can rest his head against his chest and whisper his thank you's to Harry into his skin. Sometimes, even when everything feels like it's going to fall apart, it feels like Harry is the only thing Niall will ever need in this world. It's sounds a little cliche, maybe even a bit far fetched, but boy does it feel true. Maybe Harry is the one for him. He'll never be too sure.

"Thank you." Harry tells Niall after a few moments of silence have gone by, his chin settling on top of Niall's head.

Niall frowns. "For what?" He questions curiously.

"Just for being you." Harry doesn't hesitate to say. And there goes that feeling again in Niall's heart, the one he doesn't think will ever go away, well, at least not anytime soon anyway. He's so used to it by now, though, that he's kind of starting to like it. "I think it's safe to say that you're the best person I know."

And, well, Niall could say the same thing. He feels the same way about Harry, too.

***

Harry's mum leaves a note for him on the kitchen counter that Harry finds as soon as they manage to pull themselves out of bed and head downstairs. She lets him know that she'll be out for a while, running a few errands and also mentions how nice it was to see Niall again last night. When Harry tells him this his stomach starts to warm up just like his cheeks do, sitting high on his face, as they heat up without his permission.

Harry keeps his hand in Niall's as he helps him maneuver his way around the unfamiliarity of Harry's home. Niall's given a seat behind the counter to occupy for the time being while Harry focuses on fixing them something to eat for breakfast. And it's not much, really, just some bagels for the both of them and a side of strawberries and grapes to go with it, and that's good enough for Niall. He's a simple kind of man, really. "Blueberry or plain?" Harry calls out to Niall all of a sudden. Niall can hear the sound of the plastic packages Harry holds rustling in his hands before he answers back with the word, "Blueberry."

"Good choice." Niall hears the smile in Harry's voice which makes his own lips twitch up into an involuntary smile of their own just because it's quite impossible for him not to react this way at this point. It's just bound to happen. "Strawberry cream cheese or plain?" Harry questions once again soon enough before setting their plates down on the counter. Niall hadn't even realized Harry was already done with their food. "Or you don't have to use any if you don't want to, of course."

And Niall continues to smile as he chooses strawberry cream cheese, can't stop smiling because even though he can't see him, Harry is still cute in Niall's eyes and he always will be, too. No matter what. "Another great choice." Harry chimes like his words are lyrics to a song before he slides into the seat next to Niall's. Their knees knock together in the middle and even from the small contact, Niall still feels those goosebumps rising on his skin just like the very first time. It's so pathetic, he knows, but he doesn't care at all. He never will either—he's not ashamed.

"What time do you have to be home?" Harry questions out of curiosity around a mouthful of food he's just barely finished chewing. Niall only shrugs, not knowing a definite answer to Harry's inquiry. "Dunno," he mutters. He doesn't really care anyway. In all honesty, he'd like to stay as far away from home as possible, maybe for forever if he can, or at least until his brother's already gone back home so they don't ever have to cross paths again. It sounds harsh, but it sure would ease the anxiety that's been building up inside of him for the past couple of weeks. It sure would be nice.

"I guess that means I'll just have to keep you here forever then, huh?"

And, well, Niall wouldn't exactly mind that idea at all. "Sounds good to me."

"Yeah," Harry scoffs sarcastically. "That is until your mum comes to hunt me down and forbids me to see you again."

"Then I'd just have to come up with a way to escape." Niall deadpans like it's the obvious answer. It is.

" _Aw_ , you'd escape just for me?"

"I'd do anything for you."

Niall doesn't mean to say that out loud, had hoped to just say it in his mind, keep his thoughts to himself, but apparently his mouth has other plans. His face goes completely red immediately after he says it and his heart doesn't stop racing in his chest, so fast and hard that Niall is actually scared it'll burst right out of his skin if he doesn't calm down already. And he's just about to say something, try to backtrack or start awkwardly stumbling upon his words in search of something to say to cover up what's already been said, but Harry beats him to the punchline. "Me too." Harry mumbles, so soft and quiet that Niall almost doesn't hear it, but boy does he hear every single word. Wow. "I wouldn't even question it."

Niall isn't sure what else to say, isn't sure what to do so he just smiles in the fondest way he can possibly manage, hoping that Harry can see just how happy he makes him just by looking at his face. He thinks he's done a good job.

Fingers ruffle the hair that falls flat on Niall's forehead for a moment before they both go back to finishing their breakfast. Their knees still touch in the middle, only this time Harry's moved his chair close enough that their thighs press up against one another's as well. It seems as though they always have to be close to each other at all times, like they always have to be touching in some kind of way or else they won't survive if they don't, but Niall doesn't mind. In fact, he likes it and he always has, too. It's just a part of them, really.

Soon enough, their plates are wiped clean, free of the breakfast Harry made them to start their day off. Niall's just about to shove the last piece of his bagel into his mouth when he hears a hushed giggle coming from Harry's side. "What?" He frowns a bit, not really understanding what Harry is finding so funny at all. He doesn't get an immediate response, though. Instead, all he gets is a thumb prodding at the corner of his mouth, swiping against his bottom lip as if it's trying to remove something from the surface. "You've got a little cream cheese on your lip," is what Harry tells him, and oh, does he? Apparently so.

"Oh." He mumbles to himself, feeling the warmth slowly creep up his neck until it settles comfortably in his cheeks. Of course. It only gets worse when harry leans forward, rising out of his seat, only for him to be face to face with Niall, so close that Niall can almost feel Harry's skin on his, their noses just barely skimming against each other's. There's a slow press of lips pushed into the side of his mouth, the same place Harry's finger once was, and before Niall knows it there's a gentle trail of kisses left upon his face, leading up to the one place Harry feels most comfortable, it feels, by now: right against Niall's lips.

It's not much, just a few short but firm pecks before Harry fully pulls away and Niall starts to feel lost without his touch. Harry doesn't say anything else, only grabs both of their plates and maneuvers himself around until he reaches the kitchen once again, leaving Niall left alone on the other side to sit and ponder if he'll ever learn how to stop feeling so fucking crazy whenever it comes to anything remotely close to Harry. Unfortunately, he doesn't think he'll ever come to a definite conclusion at all. Fortunately, he doesn't seem to mind.

***

"Niall, c'mon, your dad's been waiting downstairs for you for like ten minutes already."

It may seem a bit childish on Niall's part, but he doesn't care. He just continues to plant himself on the edge of Harry's bed where he sits like his bum is glued to the mattress and he's physically incapable of moving, shrugs his shoulders at the words Harry's just spoken to him because he doesn't care. He doesn't care if his father is here to pick him up, doesn't care if he's been waiting for however long he has been—he doesn't want to go home, doesn't want to leave Harry just yet just to go back to living his own miserable life again. Because it's been nice getting to be away from home for a couple of days, tons cooped up with his favorite person and forgetting about everything else in the world, but apparently all nice things have to come to an end. He wishes they didn't have to.

"Ni," Harry says in his softest voice possible, that already has Niall weak at the knees just from saying one thing alone. He goes to take a seat right next to Niall, swinging an arm around his shoulders and letting his fingers tickle at the surface of his skin. " _Please_?"

Niall frowns, makes a sound of protest at the back of his throat before he pushes himself further into Harry's personal space, tightens the grip he has on Harry where he's just wrapped his arm around his waist as if he never wants to let go. Which he really doesn't, if he's honest, would rather stay here hidden in Harry's room forever and ever, just hiding away from the rest of the world, just the two of them and no one else. Of course that can't be, unfortunately, but it doesn't hurt to fantasize about at all. It's actually quite nice to picture it in his mind, gives him something to dream about later on whenever he wants to reminisce this moment.

And he pushes his face into Harry's chest, further and further till his cheeks squish, till they bunch up and end up sitting high on his face. "I don't want to," he mumbles stubbornly, and he knows he's being a bit juvenile right now, but he doesn't care. He just doesn't want this moment to end, doesn't want to have to leave and face reality once again from here on out. Reality sucks, but Harry, he's the best.

Harry laughs beside him, lets out a tiny, breathy chuckle, but he still unravels his arm where it rests across Niall's shoulders, still pushes him away a bit, telling Niall that he's serious, that they should go, even if he really is hesitant and actually doing so. "C'mon, Ni," Harry pushes away some of the hair that falls flat on Niall's forehead. Niall's breath almost catches in his throat. _Just like the first time_ , he thinks. "Our parents are going to think something's up if we don't hurry up."

"I don't care, I just want to stay here with you."

Niall misses the way Harry's facial expression changes all of a sudden, abruptly, since he's unable to see, but he doesn't miss the way Harry pauses in between after the words he's just said fall from his mouth. "Y-yeah," Harry stutters, voice low, and Niall kind of feels proud of himself for having this kind of affect on Harry. It makes him feel good though he's not completely sure why. "But we'll see each other again on Monday, right? S'not that long. Only, like, a day, that's it."

 _One day too many_ , Niall snorts to himself, but makes a move to get up anyway. Because it's kind of hard to say no to Harry, really. It's kind of hard not to do whatever he says, kind of hard not to listen to to him at this point. In fact, it's probably impossible by now. "I guess." He sighs.

He feels Harry rising up from his seat, then, and before he knows it, two hands find themselves being placed within his very own, tugging until Niall's stood upright before Harry. They're face to face, chest to chest, and Niall feels like he could explode just from their close proximity alone, and maybe he just might especially now that he feels Harry leaning in until there's no space in between, now that he feels Harry's soft lips pushing themselves against the tip of his nose, against the corner of his mouth, and – okay. Maybe this is a sign that his time is nearing an end. Maybe this is it for him because how can he possibly continue to exist the way he is now when he's pretty sure Harry will be the absolute death of him?

"Okay?" Harry whispers, still oh so close to Niall's face. Not that he minds, anyway.

Niall doesn't say anything, just nods and slips his arms around Harry's torso, enveloping him in a tight, warm embrace. He wishes he could stay in Harry's arms forever, but he supposes a few seconds is okay for now.

Harry's fingers smooth some of Niall's hair back, his lips firmly pressing themselves against Niall's forehead one last time before he forces them to pull apart so that they can finally head downstairs.

"Sorry," Harry says once they're stood before his mum and Niall's dad. "Um, Niall lost his shoe so we were just... uh, looking for it."

Niall can't help but sigh out loud once Harry says it, has to refrain from groaning and telling Harry that he's such a fucking idiot because he's a terrible liar and it's actually kind of sad how horrible he is at it, too. Because even Niall knows that he left his shoes by the front door when he arrived, hell, he doesn't even have his shoes on right now. God, Harry is really something else. Niall's not sure what he's going to do with him yet.

" _Jesus Christ,_ " Niall hisses underneath his breath, shaking his head and kicking at Harry's foot with his own.

"What?" Harry whispers back with a frown. Of course he's clueless right about now. Of course he is.

"His shoes are by the door, Harry." His mother chimes in, and Niall would laugh if he weren't so embarrassed (for Harry more than he is himself, really) at the moment, but it's too late, he already is.

"Oh, uh—"

"Bye, Harry," Niall chooses to say, then, walking forward and letting his dad guide his way from here on out, leaving a stuttering (probably red faced and humiliated) Harry behind as they make their way out. Goodbyes are exchanged between mother and father, between Harry's mum and Niall, between Harry and Niall's dad, and that's it before Niall and his father find themselves strolling down the driveway until they reach the car and they're officially off.

The car ride is fairly quiet—nothing but the sound of the tires gliding against the street as they cruise, the wind hitting the outside of the car as they drive—for the time being. That is until Niall's dad gets to speaking, interrupting the quietness that's surrounded them until now.

"Niall," he says, causing the blond to perk up at the sound of his named being called. "I'm going to ask you something, alright, but before I do, I just want you to know that you can be completely honest with me, okay?"

And Niall frowns, starts to nibble on his lower lip out of habit, heart beginning to race with anticipation for what's next to come. He feels like he's stuck in the moment, like he's not sure of what to say (which he isn't) at all. The suspense is killing him, but he supposes that's all his fault seeing as he hasn't exactly answered his father yet.

"Um," he hesitates a bit. "Okay."

His dad doesn't even wait then, doesn't even hesitate before he's coming right out with what he wants to say. "Is there something going on between you and Harry?"

And he must notice the way Niall shifts in his seat once the question is out, must notice the way Niall kind of pauses once he hears it beside then his father is speaking up once again in order to explain himself. "You don't have to be afraid to tell me, son, alright? This isn't me interrogating you, this is just me asking out of genuine curiosity. Of course, you don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to, that's fine."

And what's Niall got to lose now, anyway? Because from what he can tell so far, his dad already knows far more than Niall's ever let on before, and he isn't mad about anything and Niall doesn't feel like he'll be in trouble if he says anything either. He's it sure why he work be anyway. It's not a bad thing, what he has with Harry, it's just that nobody knows about it, and that's all.

Niall doesn't think it's a big deal, though. Especially seeing how his dad is taking a gentle approach when asking him. And it's not like Niall was planning on keeping his relationship with Harry a secret forever, he was just waiting for the right time. Which he supposes should be now, now would be a great time to let it all out.

"How did you know?" Is how Niall chooses to answer. His voice is soft as he mumbles, a little shaky with nerves, but he's doing okay, he supposes. It's a start.

Niall can tell his father is caught off guard by the tone of his voice when he speaks again. "Well, if I hadn't figured it all out a while ago, Harry's little mixup about you losing your shoes would've definitely given it away, for sure. But besides that, I've seen you two holding hands when you go up the stairs at home far too many times for it to be considered normal."

Niall blushes furiously after that, ducks his head away to hide in the dip between his shoulder and his neck so that his dad can't see. "Oh," he states like he always does when he's at a loss for words. He doesn't know what else to do.

"So Harry is your..."

"Boyfriend." Niall answers quickly, adding more heat to his already flaming skin. God, he's so done for, he is.

"Well, that's nice. Harry is a very nice boy. I would say I approve, but you don't need my approval for what happens in your life."

Niall feels like he's stuck in a dream land, like everything he's hearing right now is way too good to be true, but thankfully it isn't. He feels so lucky to have someone as amazing as his father is around, because he's if sure what he'd do if he didn't. He's not sure how things would go if his dad thought otherwise, if this whole conversation happened to go down the gutter instead of the complete opposite, but luckily he doesn't have to think about that. It doesn't feel real, but he's glad it is. He's glad that he has such wonderful support.

"What will mum say?" Niall gets to thinking, because even though his dad has taken everything so well, there's still his mum he has to worry about. And knowing her, there's no telling how this will all go about. All he can do is hope, really. All he can do is hope that him mum reacts the same way. He's still unsure. "I don't think she likes Harry very much."

"Mum won't say a thing 'cause it's not her place to, but I assume she'll be fine. She'll probably worry, of course, but I think we're both used to that by now, right?"

"Right." Niall chuckles.

"And I don't think your mum _doesn't_ like Harry, but she is still a little skeptical ever since the whole skipping school incident."

Oh yeah, Niall almost forgot about that. "Sorry about that," Niall apologizes sheepishly. "I don't really plan on doing that again, in case you were wondering."

"It's fine, Niall," his dad laughs a bit. "Not only was that a learning experience, but you've gained a great memory, I suppose, yeah?"

And he really has. And that's all thanks to Harry, really. Now that he thinks about it, pretty much everything is thanks to Harry. Niall likes the way that sounds.

"I'm happy for you, son." His father continues just as the car stops. The engine cuts off, then, and that tells Niall that they've finally made it back home. It feels like it's been far too long since he's been gone, but that's just what happens when you lose yourself for a few days with a person like Harry. Time flies. "It's nice to see you with a smile on your face. Reckon I'll have to thank Harry for that someday."

And maybe Niall will have to do the same. After all, Harry deserves it. He deserves everything in the world. Niall almost feels bad that he can't possibly give him that, but it's okay because they have each other and sometimes that feels like enough. Sometimes it feels like that's all they'll ever really need, just them two. Niall wouldn't want it any other way.


End file.
